The William Lewis Chapters: Shaking up the Lives of the Benson-Cabots
by agapeandzoe
Summary: Alex and Olivia have been married for five years. They have three beautiful children. Then, the unthinkable occurs. This is my take on what was going on in both Alex and Olivia's minds when the William Lewis ordeal occurred. It will have angst. It will have drama.
1. Chapter One

_**Wednesday**_

 _ **May 7, 2014**_

Olivia lightly gripped the steering wheel in her hands as she sat at a red light, staring at the glowing red balled display, pondering the day. The end didn't justify the means. They had him and he had gotten away scot-free. One of the worst parts of her job was watching criminals walk away because of lack of evidence. It was a reality though and had to be dealt with emotionally when and if it came along.

Just before she had left for the day, Nick had asked her if she wanted to talk about it. It wasn't like they were exceptionally close. They had gotten slightly closer in the time that he had been there. In this particular career, how can one not?

But the only person she wanted to talk to about the conclusion of this particular case to was her wife, who was currently making sure the kids' needs were met and making dinner at home—where she wanted to be so desperately at that moment.

But she had one more stop before she could do that.

Her iPhone rang on the cradle holder in front of the air vent. She looked at her phone quickly and saw it was her wife. She tapped the green, circular icon and smiled. "Hey, Al."

"Hey Liv. Almost home?"

"About fifteen minutes away. But I have to make one more stop."

"OK. Tonight you relax, my love. I made dinner. The kids are bathed. All you have to do is accept the glass I hand you when you come in, change into something comfortable, and let me take care of you."

"Sounds wonderful, Alex. Really does." Olivia took a right on fifty-second street now. "Tomorrow's kind of busy, Babe. Grace's karate class is at three-thirty and Theo's got that dentist appointment tomorrow at four. After Theo and Izzie and I drop Grace off, we'll run by the ballet store for Izzie's tights. Then we'll take him to the dentist, then go get Gracie, and then we'll be on our way home. OK, Babe?"

"OK, Liv. Dinner is almost ready. I'm stirring the parmesan polenta right now."

"Mmmm, sounds delicious, Al."

"And it was really sweet of you to volunteer to keep taking Mrs. Pappamichalis her groceries once a week and check on her."

Olivia could hear the kids in the background, talking and laughing and, most likely, running. She smiled as she imagined the scene of her wife cooking while the kids blew off some steam and spent time with each other.

"It's the least I could do, Alex, especially after what her own son-in-law did to her." Olivia pulled up to the brownstone and moved ahead of the empty space in order to parallel park.

"Well, she really took to you, Liv and that's special considering she had gotten to the point that she didn't trust anyone anymore."

"I just did my job, Alex. That's all."

"My bad ass with the good ass always _just_ does her job."

Olivia could hear her wife smile through the phone.

She backed into the space and then pulled forward before putting her tiny Datsun into _park_. "I'm here, Babe. I'm just gonna drop these off, see if she needs anything else, and I'll be on my way. She's usually sleeping when I go in there anyway." Olivia took the car keys from the ignition and then eyed the white, plastic grocery bag to her right in the passenger seat.

"OK, Liv. Be careful. I'll see you soon…"

"OK, Babe. I love you."

"I love you, too, Liv…come home safe and sound." Alex disconnected the call and Olivia pressed the red, end call button on her phone on the holder before taking it from the cradle completely.

She reached over for the bag and set it into her lap before pulling on the handle, letting herself out, and beginning to walk towards the steps.

Mrs. Tina Papamichalis was a woman in her eighties. Special Victims had just closed a case in tandem with Haven House and the brunette had become close with the elderly woman. During the course of the investigation and trial, Mrs. Papamichalis had taken to Olivia, even going so far as to tell her she wished she had a daughter like her on several occasions. It made the brunette feel good to know that she felt like she could trust someone after all that she had been through.

Olivia reached into her dark gray blazer pocket with her right hand, the bag shifted onto her left wrist as she ascended the steps. She smiled as she thought of how exhausted Alex sounded, how cute she must have looked relaxed for the evening, cooking dinner as the kids ran around.

She approached the last step and eyed the door that was flanked with windows, noting that the light coming from either side was dim, almost dark. She knew that Mrs. Papamichalis often watched TV in her bedroom in the evenings and, being eight o'clock, the brunette knew this was probably the case, yet again this evening.

She inserted the key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door open and then flipping the light switch on with her same hand. She entered and approached the kitchen counter, hearing the faint murmur of the TV in the bedroom and smiling—soft but there—and then she dropped her keys and the bag on the counter, and then took the phone from her pocket and set it on the counter, as well, before beginning to remove the groceries—a carton of eggs...

 _A noise. A low clearing of the throat? A slight grumble?_ Definitely low in timbre.

She stopped in her tracks and listened, cocking her head to the side, her left thumb and forefinger moving to each other in a circular motion, intently attempting to listen in anticipation of any future movement she might have to make.

She began stepping to her right cautiously toward the deep sound as well as the sounds coming from further down the hallway.

"Hello?" She stepped closer now, listening. "Hello?"

And then his face appeared out of nowhere—that smirking smile, his pistol pointed directly in between her eyes. She briefly glanced to her right as she felt her heart rate begin to increase, her breath coming out in quiet, short bursts, thinking, as his eyes followed a line downward from her face along her neck and then her chest, his gaze becoming intense. He let the tip of the gun run along the left side of her jaw now before running along her neck, moving her hair slightly aside.

 _Grab the gun!_ she thought. _Grab it and get it from him!_

 _Alex. Theo. Grace. Isabel._

Their faces popped into her head for only a split second before she found her right arm grabbed and her own body forced into his, the weapon on her hip quickly dislodged and taken with his left hand.

And in that brief moment she knew, without a doubt, that something only drawn up from the dark depths of her nightmares was about to happen.

She felt it within every fiber of her being.

* * *

A/N: This is my take on what if Alex and Olivia had been together, married for eight years. The William Lewis saga began in May, 2014, so the kids would have been 4 and 3. This will be a chapter by chapter story. Some might be shorter and some might be longer. I hope you enjoy and, as always, I would love to hear from you.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: I know this particular isn't for everyone, especially since I am used to writing such light-hearted material. But I would love for you to give it a chance.**

 **I haven't been writing this particular story because of the dark intensity of it. But I really do want to get this part of the story out there. I want it to have existed and hope I am doing it justice and intertwining her character's life with the character that is Olivia Benson. I am also trying to write the parts we didn't see.**

 **Thank you for the reads, the reviews, and the kind words.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Two**_

Toes barely dragging on the carpeted floor now, her feet almost hovering as he pulled her down the hallway.

From the moment he had grabbed her, she tried to get at his hands, his face, anything to give her leverage in this situation, but he had just the right maneuvers to keep her from getting any sort of upper hand, any sort of loosening of her limbs. And now, after he had already acquired her weapon from her hip in the blink of an eye, giving him possession of two.

She whimpered now as he continued to yank on her, the intensity of his gripping forearm crushing her ribcage, and he tightened his hold, causing the breath to be squeezed from her.

"I said shut up!" he sneered before they stopped and he grabbed her jaw in his right hand, squeezing firmly, his face mere millimeters from her own. "I want you to take a look at my handiwork, Olivia. See exactly what I'm capable of."

Olivia only looked into the coldest eyes she had ever seen—ones of a monster—and she felt her emotions coming again as she felt the dread rise inside of her and she prepared for what she was about to witness.

The TV could be heard now, loud, the commercial touting something about a new medication for plaque psoriasis, and Olivia could see the bluish glow coming from the room where she knew Mrs. Papamichalis to be.

"Don't…" Olivia tried.

"Don't what, Detective?"

"Don't hurt her…" Olivia's voice was soft, meek, unrecognizable.

And somehow she knew that whatever brutal thoughts she had about the elderly woman, had already come to fruition.

"You can't save everyone, Olivia." He clutched her jaw more firmly now and abruptly turned her gaze to face inside the room and Olivia's eyes widened.

On the bed was Mrs. Papamichalis—nude, battered, beaten—her mouth and eyes open.

She was still.

She was dead.

He had killed her.

Crimson welts all over her body, circular sores oozing still-wet blood. The beginnings of bruises along her upper thighs and hips.

He had brutalized her.

He had terrorized her.

Olivia felt the rage rise inside of her now and her strength allowed her to let her hands get free, even if only for a second. She moved the heel of her hand toward his nose but he was too fast. He grabbed her wrist and twisted, muscles and ligaments and tendons straining, and she fought the cry that wanted so desperately to escape her mouth. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wouldn't show any more weakness. She had decided that early on.

Drawing up strength from a force deep within, she let her legs begin to flail, trying to kick at his shins, while simultaneously trying to get an elbow free to try and hammer his ribs.

"Now, now…" he grunted. "Show's not over yet. Let's take a closer look."

He dragged her around the foot of the bed and then stopped, the grip of her jaw by his massive hand making her immobile. It felt like her teeth were going to rip through the skin of her cheeks as he held her face in place.

"Open your eyes!" he bellowed.

Olivia shook her head, clenching her eyes tightly.

"Fucking _open_ them!"

Then a pistol against her sternum—hard, stabbing.

She let her lids raise and she saw the damage that he had inflicted now, close up. Fresh, oozing wounds, the beginnings of blue bruises on a now-cold body, her mouth open in despair, her eyes lifeless.

Olivia felt the sickness rising inside of her once more as the nauseating horror rolled upward from the bottom of her feet as the theme song for the TV show M.A.S.H. began to play.

* * *

Blurry, haziness as she slowly let her eyes open and adjust to the darkness. She moved her hands but they were somehow locked in place. She attempted to inch them around a bit more but realized they were bound behind her. And she was sitting upright in a wooden chair, ankles also bound to the wood of the legs. She realized she must have passed out.

"Hey sunshine…" His voice sent chills up her spine.

She turned to find him next to her, now bringing a glass pipe to his mouth and lighting the end, inhaling deeply before blowing a thick puff of white smoke outward. He smiled and then held the pipe and lighter outward, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

She closed her eyes and looked away.

"Oh, that's right. Police officers can't do drugs. But…" He took a cigarette from a soft pack in his back pocket and then lit it before walking towards her, "…you don't have to worry about that. Going back to work, I mean."

He moved to the coffee table and reached for a bottle of vodka, and that's when she noticed it.

The entire space had been wrecked—chairs overturned, the sofa on its side, wall-framed pictures and mirrors askew. The place had been ransacked and she wondered when it could have happened.

He stepped closer and held the now-opened bottle in front of her. "Thirsty?"

She let her gaze penetrate his now before softly uttering, "Fuck you."

His right arm came up now and he brought it down sideways, the back of his hand pounding into her right cheek and mouth and the force caused her head to jerk suddenly, sending waves of pain not only from the strike but from the abrupt motion in her neck muscles.

"Don't ever say that to me again."

He knelt down then and grabbed her jaw firmly, bottle poised in the air.

"No…" she moved her head from side to side, trying to avoid the mouth of the bottle.

"Not your choice, honey…"

He squeezed the sides of her mouth now, causing the ripping pain to radiate along her jaw, her mouth being forced open as she felt a trickle enter her throat, the angle causing it to glide down her esophagus without her consent.

"There you go. Now it looks like a party." He smiled.

"You know…I've really enjoyed working with you lately." He grinned sadistically as he began to play with a keychain that he had taken from his pocket. His gaze didn't leave her as he began removing the keys from the ring.

They were her keys—her car, her house, the beach house—and she felt the lump form in her throat once more at this realization. She closed her eyes and willed herself to remain in control while she still could.

"What do you mean, working together?"

"Well, sweetheart. We've spent so much time together talking about my life, you interrogating me, you giving me those looks you do. It's been nice." He moved into the kitchen now and dropped the keys into a frying pan that was already on the stove before turning on the element to high heat. He then began walking back toward her, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and taking a long drag, the butt now almost done.

"If that's how you see it." She watched him now, eyeing his motions. "You are the main suspect in the rape, beating, and murder of an elderly woman. It hasn't exactly been something I've enjoyed."

"All here say, Baby."

"Hard evidence has been found against you. Your track record has been less than stellar. You're a lunatic with a penchant for torture and sadism and you should be prosecuted for your crimes."

He smiled now. "Oh, yeah?" His face changed then, to one of pure anger, and he brought his hand up once more before bringing it down onto her left eye, sending a bone-splitting pain along the top of her head and down along her jawline, feeling the pull and jerk of her neck once again.

"And our time together, as you put it, has repulsed me. It hasn't been something I have been looking forward to.

"No?" He cocked his head to the side now, smirking. "You haven't enjoyed it? All that flirting you've been doing with me? Wearing that white t-shirt and that black bra underneath. Those tight, black jeans? Tempting me?" He began scanning the room. "And you say you weren't doing that on purpose?"

Olivia shook her head, feeling the throbbing in her eye socket, the burning above her lip, the sting at the top of her spine.

"Hey, uh…" he continued to look around facetiously and then his gaze returned to her. "Do you know where I can put this?"

That feeling of dread again as he walked toward her, his pace quick, and his eyes narrowed at her upper chest in her black, knit top.

Without warning, he leaned over and pulled the top edge of her shirt down and then rammed the lit end of the cigarette into her flesh, pushing it in firmly.

Olivia cried out in pain, low and gutteral, feeling the searing, hearing the sizzle until the sound was no more. Her eyes filled with tears and she clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth as her eyes closed and he pulled away.

"There's always a solution to a problem." He smiled. "Thanks, by the way."

Olivia's breathing came out in short pants now as she focused on something other than the burning pain now above her left nipple. The throbbing around her eye, the ache in her wrist, and the pain in her lip also more than simply noticeable. She opened her eyes now and watched as he walked to the stove and now noticed that smoke was coming from the frying pan and she could smell it, as well—a metal, plastic, putrid chemical smell.

He took a pair of cooking tongs from a large ceramic holder next to the stove and then carefully picked a key up with them and moved toward her.

"No...please don't..." Her voice exited a mere whimper.

Her mind went to the beach, wearing her purple bikini, feeling the sun on her. She saw the kids playing in the sand, smiling and waving. She looked over at her beautiful wife, that flawless ivory face smiling at her, as she felt the flesh of her waist pucker from the heat, buckling beneath the temperature of the extreme degrees of the metal, her skin curl into itself as she gritted her teeth and thought of her family, grateful for her mind to be able to mentally go to a place to deal with what was presently happening to her.


	3. Chapter Three

_**Chapter Three**_

She had lost consciousness, yet again.

She didn't know how long she had been out, but it had to have been longer than the last time and she realized that she hadn't even been aware that she had been moved. She was now diagonal from the overturned sofa, her knees about a foot from the glass coffee table.

Her throat was excrutiatingly sore. She swallowed hard, eyes still closed, and felt the rawness, the abrasions along her esophagus. And she felt strange, as well. Her body felt fuzzy, floating, and she could only conclude that he had given her something—forced something into her body—while she had been out.

She attempted to look around but somehow, her eyes wouldn't open. Her lids felt heavy, almost glued shut, but she knew that they weren't after they fluttered briefly and then returned to their sealed state.

She realized she was now sitting upright once more, in the same chair—she could feel the hardness of the wood against her back, the ropes around her ankles even tighter now, her cuffs still locked and attached to a wooden column at the back of the chair.

 _Oh, that's right,_ she remembered.

He had hit her again. She had tried to reason with him before she had passed out and he wasn't having it. She had told him that they could forget everything that happened and they could go on with their normal lives and she wouldn't say anything to anyone.

And he hadn't gone for that at all.

It had been a slap to his ego, implying he was forgettable, implying she could forget whatever it was that he thought that this was. It had been the last straw, hitting his pride below the belt, and he had struck her again.

But this time she felt a burning sensation on the left side of her forehead. She had remembered when he brought his hand up the last time, he had her pistol in his hand and had cold cocked her. The current sensation in the upper region of her forehead was throbbing and she felt that the skin might be open, as well, possibly still oozing. And the pain on her left breast was dulled now, still there, but somehow numbed.

He hadn't bought that the message from the man on her cell phone was her boyfriend.

And, of course, Olivia knew it hadn't been.

It had been Jonathan who she was expecting a call from about getting together the following day to help plan a party for Casey's birthday that was to occur in two weeks.

Her burly brother-in-law knew that Olivia's past included a longer friendship with his red-headed wife than Alex had, and he wanted to get her opinion on a couple of things and sort out a few details. And they were supposed to talk about it, at the townhouse, on the following day.

That was the message she had listened to as he held her phone to her ear and the one Lewis had heard before he closed the phone, set it on the top of her head, and then let it slide off and onto the floor, hitting with impact.

"Hey." A kick to her chair now. "You awake, Beautiful?"

She peeled her eyes open, blinking several times as she let her eyes adjust to the low amount of light and the immense drugged sensation she felt from whatever he had given to her, and then closed her eyes again, wincing as she tried to swallow the dryness away, realizing now that her mouth tasted like stale liquor.

Opening her eyes again, her gaze immediately went to the coffee table and she noticed a thick, clear tube resting on top, the kind one might use to intubate someone, the half-full vodka bottle next to it, and a bottle of what looked like some sort of prescription next to that. He had apparently forced something down her throat while she was out.

"Why?" she rasped before clearing her throat and swallowing again. "So you can hit me again?" Olivia winced as she shifted her backside in the chair, feeling the pain from the hardness of having been sitting for so long, feeling the pull of the freshly burned flesh at her side, and closed her eyes once more.

"No, honey…we can put that on hold for now."

She felt his body heat closer, a firmness against her knees, and she opened her eyes again to find him kneeling in front of her, wedging his way in between her legs, his hands on the tops of her black pant thighs.

She widened her eyes, attempting to become more lucid, more aware of her surroundings, and watched him. His eyes roamed her upper chest as he continued to run his hands up and down the length of her quadriceps.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his eyes twitching, narrowing as he continued to scan her.

Olivia swallowed again. "Please…don't…"

"Don't what, Baby? Don't _admire_ you? Don't want to _experience_ you?" He shook his head slowly. "I've been thinking about doing you since we met three days ago, Baby."

Olivia felt the desperation now, the rage rising up inside of her and she screamed at the top of her lungs, her vocal cords straining, her sensitive, raw throat urging her to stop, and he moved in now, clamping is hand firmly over her mouth, squeezing so hard that she felt her front teeth digging into her lip, her incisors piercing her own flesh. Her breathing came out in heavy, deep inhales and exhales through her nose, her eyes locked on him.

He smiled then.

"And you aren't making this any easier, Olivia. But I like a feisty bitch. I'll get my kiss, the way I want it, and then some. You'll be begging for it."

* * *

"Liv. Call me. Now I'm beyond worried. Please, Babe." Alex took her cell from her ear and pressed the red "X" before setting it on the kitchen island.

It was 10:02 p.m., according to the microwave clock, and Olivia had yet to walk through that garage door for the evening, leaving the blonde more than on edge.

She had reasoned through all of the possible scenarios. Maybe Mrs. Papamichalis needed her to go somewhere for her? Needed her to take her somewhere? Maybe the older woman needed to go to the hospital? Maybe Olivia's phone was dead? Maybe she left it in the car? Maybe she had to go back to Haven House or the 1-6 for something?

But that wasn't Olivia.

If Olivia had to alter her plans she always let Alex know. Always. It wasn't like her to go MIA, even when she used to work such long hours at the precinct when they had first begun dating and then started dating again in 2009. She had always called. Always texted. Always did something to let Alex know where she was, what she was doing, and not to worry.

But now, Alex was almost vibrating from fear. She felt something inside of her that told her something was more than just a little off.

"Mommy?" a familiar little voice questioned.

Alex looked toward the sweet sound that was approaching from the staircase, now heading slowly down the hallway. It was Theo and he rubbed his eyes before he looked up at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes squinting in the brightness of the overhead lights of the kitchen.

Alex smiled. "Hey, Baby…" She leaned over now and lifted him, holding him in her arms, his legs instantly wrapping around her middle, and looked his face over. He was Olivia in so many ways. From the shape of his eyes, to the curve of his nose and contour of his mouth. Even his thick, brown hair was her wife.

For a brief moment, she had forgotten that her wife hadn't called and, in that instantt, all seemed right again.

But then she remembered the absence of her wife. The absence of any word from her—audibly or visually—and she began to panic once more, her fear showing itself through the watering of her eyes as she continued to watch their son.

Theo reached his little hand out and placed it on Alex's cheek. "Why are you sad, Mommy?"

Alex smiled and swallowed. "Mommy's fine, Baby. I promise." She sniffed and kissed his cheek quickly. "And _you_ should be asleep, Theo. You have school tomorrow, my big boy." She smiled and playfully tugged at the top part of his blue, jersey pajamas.

"But Mama didn't say goodnight yet, Mommy. She always comes in and says goodnight, even if she has to be late."

"I know, Baby." Alex cradled the back of Theo's head with her palm and then took her lips to his forehead, pressing firmly and closing her eyes. She pulled away and then began to run her fingers through his thick, chocolate locks, finger combing it backward. "Mama will be home soon and that's the first place she'll go, my boy. Right into your room to say goodnight. And if I know your Mama…" Alex lightly pointed at Theo's chest, grinning, "…she's thinking about _you_ right this very moment and how she's gonna do just that, Baby."

Theo looked at her now, his eyes briefly conflicted before softening. Then that pink mouth turned up into a smile.

"Right?" Alex questioned, raising her eyebrows.

Theo nodded firmly and then wrapped his arms around the blonde's neck, hugging her tightly.

Alex kissed the side of his ear then and held him as she began walking toward the staircase. "Now, Mommy's gonna tuck you in again and you go to sleep and Mama's gonna kiss you goodnight when she comes home, no matter what, OK?"

"You promise?" Theo's muffled voice questioned against her shoulder.

"I promise, Theo."

But Alex knew she was lying to their son. She had the sickest sensation in the pit of her stomach that her wife wouldn't be coming home this evening.

And that feeling began to be surpassed by the other one that was beginning to creep into her body as well—the feeling that the lives of the Benson-Cabots were about to be rattled by something even bigger, something even more terrifying, something even more sinister than she ever imagined.

It was a fear that she had constantly tucked away, in the back of her mind, and had continued to do for the years and years of having been in love with and married to a police officer and a pulling, nagging, at her belly telling her that it was about to come true.

She felt it within her body, mind, and soul.

* * *

 **A/N: Whew. Another difficult one to write. We've gotten into the beginnings of Alex and her POV of the story. As we know, this will be the most difficult thing that Alex will have had to deal with. Anything happening to Olivia in the way of her getting hurt is something that is always in the back of both of their minds, but alway hope never happens. At this point in the story, Olivia has been with Lewis for only two hours and she has endured a lot.**

 **Please let me hear from you. I would love to know what you think of how I'm intertwining what we saw in the episodes with what could have happened in between.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Patricia**


	4. Chapter Four

_**Chapter Four**_

 _ **Thursday, May 8**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2014**_

 _ **12:07 a.m.**_

Alex sat at the kitchen table with her forehead in her hand, eyes closed. She fought the tremble in her voice that she knew would be evident when the other end of the line picked up.

She heard the tiny sound of air, signaling a connection.

"Cabot? What's wrong?" Fin's voice was immediately concerned.

Alex's lower lip trembled now and she sat up straighter in the kitchen chair and sniffed before wiping beneath her nose with the back of her hand. Calmly, she stated, "Liv's not home yet."

That was all she said.

"Not _home_?" Fin's voice level rose slightly. "What'd she say? When was she s'posed to be home, Alex?" His voice softened.

Alex quietly sniffed again and controlled the speed and tone of her voice, attempting to remain as calm as she could. "I talked to her at eight. She had a stop to make at Mrs. P's brownstone to drop off some groceries. But she said she was headed home after that." Alex felt her mouth twist, her brow knit. "But she never showed." The blonde placed her palm over her mouth.

"Hey. Listen, Alex. Don't worry just yet. There has to be a reason. Maybe she had to—"

"I've already thought of everything, Fin," Alex interrupted, her voice level rising. She closed her eyes. "Sorry."

"It's OK, Alex. Just tell me."

"I've already been through all of the scenarios that could have possibly happened and all of them come back to the fact that Olivia would _never_ just _not_ be in touch." Alex felt her strength and determination return, even if only slightly. "I left her twenty texts and over ten voice mails, Fin."

"OK, Cabot. Tell you what. I'll call Cragen and see what he thinks and I'll call you back."

"I can't wait that long, Fin." Her eyes began tearing again. "I keep imagining her hurt somewhere, not able to move, not able to talk…"

"Alex, don't do that…"

Alex felt the tears streaming down her cheeks now. "I can't help it. Something's wrong. I can just feel it."

"Lemme call the captain and I'll call you back within thirty. OK?"

Alex nodded. "OK, Fin. Thanks," she said softly.

"Hang in there, Alex. We'll find her."

Alex nodded again and then disconnected the call.

 _We'll find her._

 _We'll find her._

Her iPhone remained cradled in her palm as she stared at the gray wooden surface of the farmhouse table, the overhead, rustic chandelier light shining down on the fruit bowl in the center that was currently filled with apples and pears.

 _We'll find her._

 _We'll find her._

Those words echoed in her mind.

 _Finding_ her could mean anything.

 _Finding_ her could mean that she would never speak to her again. Never see that smile again. Never feel her warm touch again.

And Alex caved into herself then, her emotions coming full force as she moved her chair backward, curled herself downward into her knees, held her face in her hands, and released the emotions of all of the atrocious thoughts that swam through her desperate mind.

* * *

 _ **1:13 a.m.**_

Her body felt like lead—heavy, immobile, rooted—and she noted the weight of her own head as she struggled to keep it upright. Her stomach was on the edge of nausea. The emptiness and drugs in her system causing a conflicting sensation between hunger and being physically ill.

Her tongue was in intrusion in her mouth—large, dry—like it almost didn't belong to her own body. She bit the sides and tip a couple of times to make sure it was still attached. And her throat now hurt when the air of the room simply passed through it.

"So, you're _not_ single?"

His voice.

He was right there. In front of her.

She opened her eyes to find him standing there, a familiar black, leather rectangle in his hands.

"You have a lot of photos in here. I didn't think people actually did that any more. Everything's on the computer these days, flash drives, hard drives. But you…" he moved closer and squatted next to her, fanning out tiny bits of paper in his fingers, angling them toward her face, "…who are these beautiful kids?"

Olivia then realized, even in her near-incoherent state, what exactly Lewis was looking at and showing her—photos of the kids, of Alex, of her life.

There were five small pics Olivia kept in her wallet at all times—one of she and Alex wearing bikinis on the yacht in Greece, a wedding photo of she and Alex in the dressing room in their dresses after the ceremony, both with their dresses hiked up to their knees and grinning facetiously, Theo as a baby wearing a floppy, white hat and blue sunglasses in the sand in Southampton, Theo and the twins in holiday attire posing next to the Christmas tree, and one of the entire family during their infamous photo shoot in the bedroom.

They were reminders of her amazing world that existed with the woman she loved and the tiny beings that meant more to her than her own life. Little treasures she kept and held near and dear to her heart.

No point in stating the obvious fact that he had gone through her purse so she said nothing, only struggled to keep her eyes open, keep a scant amount of moisture inside the bone-like texture of her mouth.

A kick to her chair then, causing it to move at least half a foot and her brain to spin from the movement.

"Right?" His tone was firm, angry.

"Wh-what?" she rasped, closing her eyes once more, attempting to slow the dizziness.

"You had me fooled, Detective. I gotta tell you. I really thought you were single. Like a sort of black widow. One of those lonely, beautiful women, drawing men in, using them, spitting them out. Nothing but the job and meaningless sex…but you haven't been real with me, Olivia. A whole family I knew nothing about."

Olivia peeled her eyes open then and looked up at him, gauging his reaction, his expressions, his next move.

Her heartrate had now picked up in speed, her anxiety level rising.

"And here's something useful…" He took a rectangular card from her wallet, "…nice pic, Detective. Not everyone can take a driver's license photo that looks like this." He turned it to face her and smiled. "Very hot." He began shaking it in the air. "And the beautiful thing is the feature of the residential address on here. Very handy."

Olivia looked away then, to the left, her gaze gong to the fireplace.

"What is it?" He lowered his voice and moved closer, throwing the photos and identification card off to the side, the items landing somewhere under the overturned couch, and then moved in to kneel next to her. "Hey, Baby…you feeling sentimental?"

Olivia felt the warmth of tears forming in her eyes now and without warning, she felt a stray drop begin its descent down her cheek.

Lewis smiled then—sardonic and evil—the grin sending chills along her arms and back. Her stomach hurled briefly as she witnessed this and she had to swallow hard and close her eyes.

"That wife of yours…she's OK. A little too skinny. But great tits and legs, though. But I'd do her while you watch or I could do you while she watches. But…" he began shaking his head, his eyes glazing over as his focus remained on her mouth, "…those little girls…now _they're_ adorable…" His eyes refocused on Olivia now and he smiled. "Sweet-smelling, innocent little gems..."

Olivia swallowed again, the entire action a torturous task, and then set her gaze, unwavering, on the malevolent man next to her.

"What, Baby?" He reached forward now and let his hands stroke the tops of her thighs again, moving further upward now, just scarcely beginning to touch the middle seam on the crotch of her pants, letting his thumb linger there.

Olivia moaned in annoyance, loud and irritated, clenching her thighs together in a vice lock, trying not to allow him further access or inch his way any closer to his point of intention.

"Two little princesses...you've definitely been holding out on me…" he breathed, moving his hands around to the backs of her thighs, moving upward to try and cup her backside.

"You fucking leave my family alone…" she hissed. "Leave my…" And then her body heaved and she gasped as her mind went to the unimaginable, the tears forming again without her consent.

"Those little girls? A man like me. Would you kill for them, Detective? If a man like me were to ruin them? What do you say we stop by real quick and pick them up and bring them with us?"

Olivia's stomach was on the verge of rebelling now, whatever contents inside threatening to come out. "That's…that's the first place they'll look for me, W-William," she reasoned, attempting to try a new strategy. "We can't go there. They'll come looking for me there as soon as they realize I'm missing and after they come looking for me here. Which…" she swallowed again, closing her eyes and grimacing before continuing, "…will be soon. I know…my wife is…has already called my partner…they could be on their way here first."

Lewis smiled as he moved his hands upward now, that far-off, vile look still in his eyes. He brought his hands up further, letting his fingers just barely graze the undersides of her breasts before using firm hands to squeeze them roughly, bringing his face close, his hot, acrid breath against her mouth.

She felt the sharp pain in her breasts, his elbows digging into the tops of her thighs, her belly rolling with fear.

"You're right." He moved his face to the side of hers now, letting his mouth, his hot exhales brush against her ear. "Well, then I think you and I need to go on a little ride then. A little vacation."

"Not my family… _please_ …" she whispered. "Please…do whatever you want to me but…" Olivia felt the bile rise inside, "…leave my kids and wife alone, please…"

And then he stood abruptly, the fury returning to his face.

"Begging? Making demands?" He took his large, booted foot and kicked her chair in between her legs, the motion fast and reactionary.

Her chair flew backward with a thud, the back of her head bouncing on the carpeted floor a couple of times before settling.

His entire body was on her now, his face close again. He pulled something from the floor and Olivia heard a ripping sound and then a roll of duct tape came into view as he tore it with his teeth.

"I'll do…" he placed the tape over her mouth, "…whatever I want to do…" He grabbed her face then and pressed his open mouth on top of the strip of silver before pulling away. "And you don't have _shit_ to say about it."

Olivia watched him, his mood changing within seconds, as he stood and loomed over her. He took her keys from the coffee table and shoved them into his back pocket.

"Let's go for a ride." He smiled then, sending another wave of sickness throughout her body as she lay, waiting for whatever William Lewis intended to do with her next in this, the most traumatic experience she had ever had in her life.

Her world felt like it was crashing down around her, crumbling like an avalanche, as she filled the lead role in one of the worst situations she had ever been privy to in all of her years on the force.

She only prayed she got through and her family emerged unscathed, as well.

* * *

 **A/N: OK. So I am realizing that I'm gonna have to shift the timeline of this. We know Lewis had her for four days, but if Olivia had a family and had Alex to be the one that had to make decisions, etc., Olivia's absence would be noticed much sooner. So, that being said, Olivia will not be kept in captivity for an entire four days. What we saw on the episode also occurred in here, but it happened in a shorter amount of time.**

 **I hope you liked it.**

 **Please read and review as it feeds my soul, muse, and drive.**

 **Thank you to those of you who already do. You have always meant the world**

 **Patricia**


	5. Chapter Five

_**Chapter Five**_

 _4:12 a.m._

The sun was shining gloriously just before dusk as she looked beyond the sparkling waves at the setting sun, sunglasses on, feeling the warmth of the evening rays on her forehead, cheeks, and shoulders. The glowing yellow ball in the sky was hovering now, dipping into the horizon as it set, creating an ethereal glow all around on this balmy evening in Southampton.

Hands and then arms around her belly from behind then a softness behind her, holding her, hugging her, loving her. She smelled her wife's essence at that moment—a mixture of coconut sunblock and perfume and the scent that was uniquely her wife. And she smiled, clasping the hands that were clenching her lower belly. And she closed her eyes.

"I love when we come here, Al. I always have." Olivia leaned her head back on the blonde's right shoulder, still eyeing the sunset.

"Me, too, Liv. I love the way we both get and how relaxed we are. And the kids have so much fun, too. Theo loves the water so much."

Olivia felt a gentle kiss to her left, lower jaw then. "We knew he would, even when he was a baby."

"We did," Alex said softly. "Well…my parents are watching the kids…" Alex kissed her neck gently, "…and we have a little time to ourselves…"

"Mmmm," Olivia moaned. "We do. Shall we pull out an old trick from our carefree, sex-filled, pre-children days?" the brunette questioned while turning in her wife's arms. She slithered her arms around Alex's waist and clasped her hands behind her, looking into that flawless, clear, porcelain complexion, lightly sun-kissed cheeks on display.

Alex's grin was broad. "Oh, I don't see why not." Alex leaned in now and let her mouth hover over Olivia's. " _You_ in this bikini, Babe. I've been wet since you took your towel off," Alex husked.

Her hot breath lingered against her lips and Olivia looked deeply into those crystal blue orbs—clear, sparkling, content.

Olivia lifted her right leg now and wrapped it around the blonde's backside before she leaned in and pressed her mouth to Alex's, taking her time as she felt the soft, plushness of her mouth against her own. She let her hands move upward, clenching her upper back before sliding them down past her waist to grip her backside firmly.

Their kiss intensified now, Alex's hands in her damp locks, Olivia's hand feeling the firmness beneath her palms, heavy breathing, moaning and Olivia could feel her heating up, her lower lips beginning to respond to her wife's touch, her movements, her body and motions feeling Heavenly.

A blood-curdling scream then—high-pitched and terrifying.

 _Gracie? Izzie?_

Alex and Olivia quickly broke apart and looked toward the sound, towards the still-setting sun, and saw three figures in the near distance—two blonde and one brunette.

Their children.

"Mama! Mommy!"

Their voices were frantic, their arms flailing, their heads struggling to stay above the water.

Olivia's heart began racing. "Jesus! How did they get out here?"

The two mothers began to wade closer, arms propelling them along, but somehow never making it closer to their struggling babies. It was almost as if they were moving even further away.

"We're coming, Babies!" Olivia croaked out, still moving, still attempting to head towards the bobbing figures.

" _Mama_!" Isabel's voice.

"Coming, Baby! Hold on!"

Then silence. No voices from her children. No sound coming from Alex. Even the waves had stopped, the water still.

Olivia gasped and continued to try and move toward where her children were while simultaneously looking for her wife to her right.

But all were gone.

Olivia stopped then, her breathing ragged, her arms wading, her feet still in motion as she took in the sound of her family suddenly not there.

No Alex. No Theo. No Isabel. No Grace.

She turned around and around—left and right, looking ahead, looking behind her—still paddling, her mouth open, eyes now tearing mercilessly, shocked, uneven breathing puffing outward.

"Babies?" she cried. "Alex?" Her eyes darted around in search of her loved ones. " _Please_ …" she whimpered. "Where are you?"

She felt a hand on her belly, clenching, shaking her—not a gentle jostling from sleep, but a rough and firm action.

She placed her hands on top of the other invasive hand and felt largeness, roughness, clamminess.

"Hey, wake up!" a familiar voice, deep, intrusive. He was in the driver's seat, his right arm having reached into the back.

That's right. She was still being held by him. Her nightmare was still being played out as she helplessly obeyed every last command that he had.

She wanted to go back to the beach, to the sun, to her family. She wanted this to all be over and she wanted to be safe at home, holding her family. Holding her wife. Taking comfort in the fact that they were all safe, away from lunacy and chaos.

She furrowed her brow and turned her face to the left, into the back of the seat. The warm surface was now against her nose and mouth, the scent of the vinyl upholstery close, her hot, quick breath creating a moisture that bounced back at her.

She felt her eyes begin to prick again but, at this point, they were so raw from the salt, and they had erupted so many times and she was so dehydrated that she had nothing left to expel in the way of moisture. She was so tired of this game.

"Hey! Wake the fuck up!"

A slap to her right cheek then and she jolted, her eyes opening as quickly as they could.

But they closed just as quickly as she felt the extreme exhaustion, the extreme inebriation from what he had plied her with over the past several hours.

"Open your fucking eyes, Olivia!"

He slapped her again and then she felt her jaw being squeezed, clenched in his aggressive hand. Her eyes opened again and she looked unwaveringly at him as he continued to watch her from the front driver's seat. He was smiling, as was usual for him. Nothing funny at all in the situation. Just that psychotic smile that seemed to constantly be spread across his evil face.

"Having a nightmare?" he questioned. "It wasn't about me, was it?"

Olivia cleared her throat, the rawness beginning to taper off. He was now simply pouring the alcohol down her throat because, at this point, she couldn't fight it, couldn't fight back, couldn't control the way that he administered it. Her mouth and surrounding skin was sensitive now, as well. It felt swollen, red, from the pull of the tape across her mouth stinging and burning from the numerous times he had ripped it off and then reapplied. Her eyes rolled in her head as she moved to adjust her neck that was cramped in an awkward position in the back seat of the car, her head resting on the passenger arm rest, currently digging into the bottom of her skull.

Then flashes of what had happened in the past few hours.

Trapped in the trunk.

Hours maybe?

It had been dark, the car moving, stopping, moving, stopping.

She had been in there for hours. She knew that. Tied, bound, gagged, crying. Hot, the air close and tight. Only her nose to breathe through. Sounds outside. Only her labored breathing coming from the small space of where she had been.

She had then seen the husband killed. William Lewis had beaten him and then had struck him with a fireplace poker, the final blow taking the life out of him.

Then his wife had been raped. Burned, tortured. Olivia forced to watch, restrained in another chair. If she closed her eyes, he continued to press the searing end of the cigarette into the woman's flesh, marking her body with red, bleeding welts as she screamed in agony.

He had raped her four times that Olivia had witnessed. It could have been more but the brunette wasn't completely coherent the entire time, the drugs and alcohol causing her to float in and out of consciousness.

But she had done one thing that might help her situation.

She had left her necklace in the car.

Just before Lewis had come to open the trunk, she had been able to raise her wrists to her neck and had ripped it off—a way to leave a clue that she was still alive and kicking, a message to anyone that happened to find it.

 _Hey, I'm OK. I'm here._

"I'm going in this hardware store real quick." He cocked his head to the side. "Need anything?"

She simply stared at him, her eyes heavy, her body covered in a layer of summer evening perspiration, her bladder threatening to explode, her stomach in knots of nausea and disgust.

"No? OK. I'll be back in a few." He removed the keys from the ignition and then smiled back at her. "Don't go anywhere, detective."

She watched as he yanked on the driver's side handle and then pushed the door open. He slammed the door and she watched his figure disappear from sight before focusing on the moon in the sky, the majestic freedom and beauty of the glowing sphere somehow a stark contrast to the details of the night.

* * *

 _7:16 a.m._

Two steps behind. They always seemed to be two steps away from finding her.

The past seven or so hours had been hell. Fin and Cragen and Amaro and Rollins had come by in the beginning and now there were only a couple of officers stationed outside their house—one in the front and one in the back, just outside the closed garage door—both armed. The detectives and Captain had to head back early on to continue trying to locate Olivia. They had been in touch with various other departments, in touch with each other as they attempted to follow every lead and track her down.

Alex had heard what had happened so far. The kidnapping. The torture. The rape of the lawyer's mother. The father's death.

The trunk. Her necklace. Blood.

Blood. Olivia's necklace. The necklace Alex had had engraved for her wife. The gold one that she wore constantly. The one that read _My Forever Love_ that she had gotten her brunette wife on their first wedding anniversary. The one she never took off.

The kids were still asleep, thankfully.

Even with all of the commotion of the 1-6 crew there at the house in the middle of the night, their three little ones hadn't stirred and Theo hadn't noticed that Olivia hadn't yet arrived, either. For that, the blonde was grateful, but she knew that this peace wouldn't last long. She would have to tell him, tell the twins something, and she knew she didn't want to lie to any of them.

Alex stepped back from the window, away from her spot in the front guest room where she had been mindlessly standing and staring for the past while, thinking. The sky had turned from a deep black to a dark indigo, and then a golden amber in the time she had been standing there, her cell phone in her hand, ready for any news that she had yet to be given. Any news that they had found her wife. Any news that Olivia would be returning home and she could hold her again, see her again, touch her again.

"Allie?" Jonathan's voice now, soft, gentle.

Alex turned to find her brother standing there, hands in his pockets, looking as he should—like a man who had not gotten any sleep. And neither had she.

He had come over right away after Casey had heard of Olivia's disappearance from a fellow lawyer who had heard it from a cop who had overheard it from one of the detectives at the precinct.

Casey had Katie and Kimberly at their house and Jonathan had come over to be any support to his sister that he could.

"Hey, Johnny…" Alex whimpered, feeling her emotions coming on once more.

She couldn't help it. She felt helpless and on the edge of losing her mind. The rational side urging her to keep it together.

"How are you, baby sis?" He stepped closer then, hands in the pockets of his khaki pants, white T-shirt slightly askew on his tall, muscled form.

Alex smiled. "How do you think I am, Jonathan? My wife is _missing_." She swallowed then and fought back the tears. " _Missing_!" She put her face in her hands. " _Missing_ ," she said softer then. "I can't believe it. Even saying that word out loud is a nightmare, Johnny."

"I know, Allie."

Strong arms around her then, and a chin on the top of her head. She reached around him and held him tightly, feeling her body weaken, shaking from emotion, as she let him hold her.

"They found her necklace," Alex said against his chest.

"I know, Allie. I was there when they told you."

Alex pulled away then, away from her brother. "I know you were." She furrowed her brow and folded her arms. "I'm just saying it again."

Jonathan nodded, his eyes empathetic.

"What?" Alex's eyes widened.

"Nothing, Allie. I know they found the necklace."

"Not _the_ necklace, Jonathan. _I_ gave her that. Our first anniversary, Johnny. She _never_ took it off, Jonathan. _Never_!" Alex clenched her jaw then, feeling her nose begin to run.

"I know, Allie. It was special to her."

Alex's jaw dropped then. "Stop talking about her like she's _gone_!"

Jonathan's face dropped then—changing from empathy to confusion and then slight fear. "I—Allie, I'm not…" He moved toward her. "She's gonna be fine, Allie. I just know—"

"She's not dead!" Alex heaved then, her whole body taking a deep breath and she collapsed into herself, her knees going out from underneath her before hitting the floor below her, her upper torso following as she crumpled into a ball.

She opened her mouth then, eyes closed, a silent wail taking over her body as she felt her brother join her on the floor, strong arms embracing her. Then, she found her voice and her cries exited her body without warning, deep, guttural angst drowned in helplessness.

"Shhhh," Jonathan soothed, rocking her gently.

"I _need_ her, Johnny!" Alex cried. "I can't lose her!" She felt her tears fall in torrential sheets along her cheeks now, the floodgates opening once more. "She's my world…" Alex whined.

"Mommy?" Theo's voice then.

"Mommy sad? Why Mommy sad?" Grace's tiny voice.

And then all three kids were on her, offering their comfort in a situation that was beyond their realm of comprehension.

Alex felt her brother break from the hug and then three small bodies holding her tightly, Isabel's breathing against her ear.

"Mommy? Don't be sad. Izzie love you." Isabel patted Alex's back then, soothing, repetitive taps of comfort.

"Where's Mama?" Theo's voice.

"She's coming, Baby." Alex closed her eyes and inhaled her children, placing a kiss on the back of Theo's head, then Grace's cheek and then the back of Isabel's neck. "She's coming soon, guys." She kissed Theo's hair again and rocked all three.

The doorbell rang downstairs and Alex's eyes popped open, going directly to her brother who was standing a couple of feet away. She watched as he leaned forward to peer down at the street below.

"It's Mom and Dad."

Alex furrowed her brow.

"I called them earlier and told them…they said they wanted to come and be here and help in any way they could. Their Rover's here."

Alex nodded, continuing to hold her children. "Thanks, Johnny."

"You got it, Allie."

"Hey, guys…" Alex pulled away from the three tots, smiling, "…grandma and grandpa are here!" She sniffed. "Why don't you go down and greet them?" She grinned at their excited faces.

"Yeah!" Theo beamed.

"Dat Grandma? Gampa? Dey here?" Grace furrowed her brow.

"Yes, Gacie. Dey here!" Isabel offered.

"Yea!" Grace beamed.

Alex watched the three children as they began to run from the room, Jonathan close behind.

"Wait, guys. Let me go first." He looked at Alex as he took Theo and the twins' hands. "How about you take a few minutes. OK?"

Alex nodded. "Thanks, Johnny. Just give me ten to freshen up and change."

Jonathan smiled. "Absolutely, sis. See you downstairs."

Alex took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her brother was taking care of her and she was more than appreciative. Although she still felt that anxiety, that unshakable terror bubbling just beneath the lid of the pot, threatening to overflow, she was thankful for the small gestures of family.

The one thing that was reliable at present.

The one thing that was holding her together.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to the recent follows and favorites. I hope you are enjoying this. We're getting closer to the point that she was rescued at the Montauk beach house.**

 **Thank you to those of you who are sticking with this. A big thank you to those of you who review, as well. It means so much.**

 **Please take the time to do so because it means you are enjoying it.**


	6. Chapter Six

_**Chapter Six**_

 _May 9_ _th_

 _9:37 a.m._

 _Sentimental Journey_ was still echoing in her head—the last song she heard in the car—as she stood, swaying, unstable, the back of her knees touching the toilet.

"Well, _go_! Piss already!" he bellowed, his face covered in a thick sheen of perspiration, those acrimonious eyes glaring at her. "Jesus Christ. You women take so long to go!"

She only looked at him, unable to help herself in any way, her hands bound behind her, feeling as though she would release her bladder in her pants, wetting herself, and that was something she wanted to avoid, if at all possible.

"Oh, that's right. You need my help, don't you?" he smiled and stepped closer, close enough for her to see every last sweat-covered freckle, mole, and scar on his face. "Poor Detective Benson. Completely helpless."

Then he reached in between their bodies and she felt a jerk and then the sound of tiny bumps against plastic as she felt her zipper being pulled down. She closed her eyes then, feeling the impending relief of finally being about to use the restroom, hoping with every last ounce of muscle control that she didn't allow herself an accident.

Then, a quick, rough motion as her entire lower half met air and she felt the thin fabric of her panties around her knees. Taking a sharp inhale of breath, she opened her eyes once more.

Lewis stood back up then, his eyes meeting her own, and he grinned again. "Nice. Just what I expected, Detective. Even better than I thought. I can't wait." Then his smile dropped and his eyes began that slight, tremoring twitch—the one that signaled a mood change—which she was beginning to read like a digital clock. "Now go to the fucking bathroom," he gritted. "Now's your last fucking chance before I do you."

Olivia swallowed then and began to lower her bottom half to the toilet, the height lower than expected, and she gasped as she dropped suddenly and her backside hit the cool porcelain and she immediately began emptying her bladder, relief setting in immediately. She closed her eyes, relishing in the relief, silently thanking her muscles for not betraying her.

Then, when the sound of the streaming liquid ceased, she opened her eyes and looked back up at her captor. He was folding his arms and had that far-away look on his face again, his mouth pursed, his eyes focused on somewhere around her neck, but no place in particular.

They stay like that, watching each other, Olivia wondering what was going on in his head, what he was going to do next, thanking God for the fifty-millionth time that day that they hadn't gone by the townhouse or even attempted to contact Alex in any way, shape or form.

For that, she was amazingly grateful.

Alex.

The kids.

She knew they were probably worried beyond compare.

Especially her wife. She knew Alex was beside herself at this point. Couldn't imagine the thoughts that were running through her blonde wife's head. The way her brain went to extremes, the way she could anticipate the worst, let her mind run ahead of reality.

But this time she was right. Whatever Alex had been thinking, it wasn't far off. Although Olivia wasn't dead, she knew that Alex had already had that thought cross her mind. That beautiful brain had already let that ultimate fear creep in, let it be entertained, possibly allowing it to stay.

If she knew Alex, she knew that her wife was barely keeping it together. She knew that the children were her number one priority and that made the brunette feel, at least, somewhat more at ease knowing this fact.

But a worrying Alex was an Alex that didn't take care of herself. When Olivia had been gone, even in the past, Alex left herself and forgot about her own basic needs, focusing on the situation, focusing on others, instead.

The kids were taken care of. They were loved and tended to and fed and comforted. She knew that much was true deep within her soul.

But she hoped that someone was taking care of Alex in the way that her wife needed them.

Patience. Support. No sugar-coating. No coddling or lying or rainbows or unicorns. Strength. Silence. Assurance. But no lying.

That was her wife. That was what she needed.

"Get the _fuck_ up," he grunted, his hands gripping her armpits then.

And she closed her eyes once more as she felt him lift her to a standing position, felt the crotch of her panties and pants meet her body, and then heard the zipper rise with force, those penetratingly sadistic eyes looking at her, focused on her own.

And she wondered what would come next, praying once more, that she survived this experience to see another day with her wife, with her family, and bring Alex the comfort and reassurance and closure she needed in what she was sure was the most harrowing ordeal the blonde attorney had ever experienced in their lives together thus far.

* * *

 _4:32 p.m._

Alex sat at the kitchen table, arms folded, eyes glazed over, as she watched Theo and the twins eat an early dinner of tuna fish sandwiches, cucumber slices, and green apple wedges.

Jonathan had to go back to work earlier that morning at ten but told his sister to let him know anything at all, any news, any updates about his sister-in-law, and as soon as possible. Theo and the twins, even though they sensed something was wrong in the family in all of their intuitiveness that morning, were dropped off at school at eight o'clock, nonetheless, and now were back at home, Mr. Cabot having picked them up at three from school. Her parents had been more than helpful since their arrival early that morning, her father even more so.

And that was simply because her father was just being a father, not intrusive, not invasive in the slightest. All morning the chipper older male Cabot had been around the house, tightening things, twisting things, replacing things that needed to be done—a cabinet handle here, a loose screw on a hinge there. Not out of necessity but doing it in a way that showed his love, his presence, his support of his daughter in such an unanticipatedly foreign and distressful time in her life.

And then there was Cathy Cabot.

Her oblivious liveliness had been causing Alex to teeter on the fence between sanity and literally going postal. The high-pitched humming that escaped her mother's mouth as she did small tasks around the townhouse and listened to the small kitchen radio that sat on the window ledge above the kitchen sink, humming to the likes of Lionel Richie's _Dancing on the Ceiling_ or Neil Diamond's _I am…I said_ , and this had been intermittently tempting the blonde to stand, grab fistfuls of her own hair in her hands, and scream at the top of her lungs.

Alex had already taken many moments of solitude that day, having to go upstairs, or out on the front patio, or just close the door of the garage and cry. Simply let out the worry, the extreme fear, the absolute trepidation without little ears and eyes being witness. She was told not to go to the station. She was ordered to stay at home, keep her phone near her, and await further news. And she had obeyed those commands to the tee, knowing how dangerous it would be for her and her family if she didn't.

Although the kids had more than sensed her struggle, they had already, even in just the hour or so they had been home, asked numerous questions, she had decided that she wouldn't go into great detail with them until when, and if, they found her alive and knew she was coming back home.

Any story that she had ready to tell just didn't seem fair. And so she, at the advice of her brother and parents and Captain Cragen and Fin, had decided to wait until she divulged any information to the little ones.

"Why haven't they gotten the bad guy yet?" Theo questioned before taking a bite of an apple slice.

Alex snapped herself from her thoughts and then looked at Theo, trying a smile.

 _His eyes are so blue_ , Alex mused, before she answered. "She's gonna be a little while longer, Theo. They haven't gotten him yet, my boy. But they will."

"Why is he so bad, Mommy?" Theo question, his mouth now full of tuna.

Alex felt her emotions once more, thinking of what the captain and detectives had already told her about what he had done, what he was capable of, and what her wife had already endured—burning, cutting, breaking—and her eyes filled with tears.

"Dat no good, Mommy." Grace's brow was furrowed, her face stern. "No bad guy."

Alex couldn't help but smile. "That's right, Gracie. Bad guys aren't good, Baby."

"Mama get him?" Isabel's squeaky voice then and Alex looked at her hopeful expression.

"Yes, Baby. Mama and her squad are gonna get him." Alex's lower lip began to tremble then and she swallowed, feeling the wetness threaten to spill. She looked at her mother who was standing next to the sink, rubbing a lotion into her hands after just having washed a few dishes, the older woman's eyes sympathetic. "I need a moment, Mom. Can you watch them?" Alex stood.

"Of course, Alex. Take your time."

Alex nodded and then moved to kiss the top of Theo's head, then Grace, then Isabel before she started for the guest bedroom just next to the garage.

"Alex, honey…?"

Alex stopped and looked at her mother then who had come around the island to attempt to catch up to her daughter.

Cathy Cabot held her arms out and Alex's face wrinkled again as she moved into her mother's arms, the two holding each other tightly. Mrs. Cabot began rocking her daughter.

"I know you don't want to hear this again, but…" Cathy's voice was soft, only meant to be heard by her daughter, "…she's gonna be fine, Alex. They're gonna find her and she's gonna come home and be fine." She pulled away now and then placed her hands on the blonde's cheeks. "OK?"

Alex swallowed and smiled, looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath. She nodded and sniffed before looking back at her mother. "I want to believe that, Mom. I really do." She nodded again, feeling another wave of emotion once more. "For all of our sakes, I do." She looked over at the kids who were all watching mother and daughter have a moment. "For all of our sakes…Liv included."

"Well, you go take a few minutes, OK? Go upstairs, shower, get a little rest. You haven't slept, you haven't eaten, Dear, and I need you to do that. OK?" Cathy reached forward and tucked a stray piece of hair that had come loose from her butterfly clip, behind her daughter's ear.

"OK, Mom." But Alex knew she wouldn't shower. Wouldn't sleep. Wouldn't do any of the things she knew she should, her mother knew she should, and knew her wife would want her to do, until she knew something, heard something, that would tell her something, anything, about her wife's state, safety, and location.

Until that happened, nothing else in the way of personal attentiveness mattered. Not her oily up-do'd hair, not her sweats and hoodie she had chosen to wear for the past couple of days, not her perpetual coffee breath from cup upon cup of the warm brew.

None of it mattered.

It didn't matter at all.

* * *

"Alex. We've got him. We found the car he ditched and Liv called us a little while ago. We're on our way to Montauk now" Fin's voice was exhausted, drained, yet simultaneously relieved.

Alex sat up further on the sofa, the kids asleep on her lap, cuddled into her. The three children began to stir then. Lifting their heads and rubbing their eyes.

"You talked to her? You spoke to her?" Alex's eyes began to tear again and she placed her hand over her mouth,

"She called us, but it's gonna be a while before she comes home. We need to see what happened, she needs to be checked out by medical. She mentioned something might be broken." A pause then. "You know the drill, Cabot."

Alex nodded, her mouth contorting. "But you talked to her…" she said softly. "She's OK…"

"Looks like you gon' see that gorgeous wife of yours soon, Alex."

Alex could hear him smiling through the phone and she nodded again, looking down at the kids who were now hugging her, their little ears listening. "Looks like it, Fin. Thanks for letting me know."

"You got it, Cabot. Hold tight, OK?"

"OK…" she claimed softly before bringing the phone away from her ear and ending the call with her thumb. She leaned forward and set the phone on the coffee table before leaning back again.

"Dat Mama?" Isabel inquired.

Alex watched as Cathy and Bill Cabot began rousing from a light sleep, both close together on the other section of the sofa, and she began fingering Isabel's fine, blonde locks.

"Alex? Honey? Was that about Olivia?"

Alex nodded quickly, her mouth twisting. "Yeah. She's OK. She's coming home."

* * *

 **A/N: Well? How did you like it? It's not over, but we're to the point where we saw her coming out with Nick.**

 **A "Hot and Heavy" chapter to follow this evening for that whole balance thing I was talking about.**

 **Please let me know how you liked this chapter.**

 **Thank you to those of you who have and continue to do so!**


	7. Chapter Seven

_**Chapter Seven**_

 _They found her._

 _She's coming home._

Alex leaned with her hands on either side of the pedestal sink in the master bathroom, the coolness beneath her palms somehow soothing against the heat that had just pooled there since the news of her wife's return. Her blood had begun flowing once more, the life somehow re-entering her being, the pinkness returning to her cheeks, the moisture to her mouth, upon news that Olivia was alive, was OK.

And she looked at her face in the reflection, studying it carefully.

 _Or was she?_

Somehow, in the depths of her belly, there was a sensation that the brunette wouldn't be OK. At least not for a while. Call it intonation, call it intuition, call it connection, call it whatever you wanted, but Alex could feel, even from miles away, that her wife's mind was not the same. She already sensed a disconnect, two wires not quite touching. Like one, tiny bulb on the hundred-light strand on the Christmas tree was out.

She just felt it.

Olivia.

Still, whenever she thought of this woman, even felt her soul from miles away, she had the warmest sensations of love. From day one, when they had met for the first time in the squad room, she had felt it, and it continued to this day, only having built within the past years of being married. But whatever that feeling, that sensation, had been upon their first encounter, it had intensified two-fold, three-fold, ten-fold, a million-fold.

And their link was stronger than ever.

Her wife had only been gone for a day and a half, but it seemed like an eternity and she had missed her more than she ever would have thought, especially coupled with the hard facts and evidence of knowing what she had been going through.

She swallowed the lump that was threatening to stop her breathing and then took a deep breath.

The blonde jolted as her phone in the back of her jeans pocket began ringing the classic iPhone tune—cheerful and quick—and she reached back for it while simultaneously being ambushed by Theo throwing himself into her left hip, hugging her with force. She smiled as she reached down and ran her fingers through his thick, chocolate locks.

"Hello?" Alex looked down at her son and began raking her fingers backward through his hair, looking at that endearing smile on his face.

"Cabot…"

"Yes? What? What is it, Fin?" Alex's heart began to thud in her chest, her anxiety returning.

"I think…well, I'm not sure…" Fin stammered.

"Fin, tell me. What's going on?"

"It's Liv…we just finished at the station, three hours of questioning, and before that we were at the hospital for a while. I think she's done, Alex. I think she's ready for some downtime…"

Alex furrowed her brow and then reached her hand out to Theo who took it happily. "What do you mean, Fin? Of course she needs down time. I know that."

"Are there a lot of people there, Alex?" he asked.

"W—w…no…I mean, yes...I mean…my parents are here…what are you saying?"

"Alex, I don't think she's gonna want any other company than just you and the kids. Amaro said she didn't talk at all on the way back from Montauk. And, she didn't say it or mention it outright, but…I just get the feeling she's gonna need silent support right now, if that makes sense. The only time she's spoken was the interview. Other than that…she looks...she's exhausted, Cabot and I think any extra stimuli right now is a bad idea."

Alex nodded and sat at the foot of the bed, Theo joining her and then leaning against her, his head on her side. She wrapped her arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

"I got it, Fin. I can tell my parents and have them stay at a hotel tonight. I'm sure, given what Olivia's gone through, they won't mind."

"And it's another thing…" Fin began.

Alex furrowed her brow again and looked to the left, down the hallway, and watched as Cathy Cabot held the twins' hands and they began down the staircase.

"Alex…what he did to her, physically, you can see the starting of bruises and her recounting of exactly what happened to her says there's even more, much more, that we can't even see. I just…I feel like you need to be warned, 'specially with the little ones."

Alex felt her eyes fill with tears again. She leaned over to her son and whispered, "Why don't you go down and see what your grandma and sisters are up to. OK, Baby?" She tried a smile, raising her eyebrows.

"OK, Mommy!" he chirped. He lifted his head and face up for a kiss, planted one on Alex's cheek, and then jumped off of the bed and darted down the hallway.

Once he was out of sight, she continued. "Do you think the kids should see her?"

"That's up to you. I think they probably need to so they know she's OK. But I'm saying the bruises…what he did to her…it's only gonna show worse in the next couple of days. Might be better to prep the kids if you decide to let them see her right away."

"That bad…" Alex's voice was a mere whisper.

"She's gonna need patience, Alex. Quiet, patience, love, understanding…"

"She's got all that here, Fin," Alex whispered, her lower lip vibrating with emotion once more.

"I know she does. I wanted to give you a heads up. We'll leave here in…" a slight pause, "…about forty minutes and be there by eleven."

"OK, Fin. I'll make sure everything is ready to go here. The kids are still awake. Knowing their Mama's coming home, I just couldn't make them go to bed. They're so excited to see her." Alex sniffed.

"I'll bet they are," Fin offered. "See you in a little while."

Alex nodded and disconnected the phone and brought her hands to her lap, staring ahead at the small fireplace in their master bedroom.

She thought of her wife and what she would look like, what her demeanor would be like, what she would and wouldn't be ready for. She had to tell her parents the news and prepare the kids, as well.

From this point forward, the blonde knew it wouldn't be easy. But she knew her wife and what she needed, what she longed for, and what would soothe her.

She only hoped she would get her wife back and she could begin to mend from this ordeal. And Alex would be there every step of the way to be the support, be the stability, and be the love that she knew the brunette needed now, more than ever in her life.

* * *

Olivia shut the door behind her, enclosing herself in the small, darkened space of the diminutive bathroom of Captain Donald Cragen. She needed the privacy of his personal facilities—didn't want the blinding fluorescent light of the public women's room, and so she had opted for the cramped, darkened area just to the right of his desk.

She moved to the sink and looked at herself, studying her eyes, letting them roam before she scanned across her forehead to the two, sheer white pieces of bandage holding her cut together—no stitches needed.

Her gaze moved to the gash on the right side of her upper lip—one of the first injuries she had sustained while under his captivity. The bruising around her left eye.

And that was just the beginning.

The damage that had been done to her body was what Olivia didn't even want to glance at. She knew what was there. She remembered every strike, every scratch, every burn, every twist, every singeing and piercing of her flesh.

She had done what she needed to do to survive.

She had said that over and over again. In her mind. To the investigations committee.

She had done what she needed to do to survive.

And she had survived. She would see another day with Alex. She would see those little beautiful creatures that filled her life with joy, morning, noon, and night. She would kiss them and hug them and talk with them and watch them grow up. She would have another anniversary with her wife. She would celebrate more birthdays and holidays and go to plays and dances and games.

And for that she was thankful.

She cradled her left wrist then, the injury she had gotten when he had forced her to look at the deceased older woman. It was now in a sling, a sprain not a break—another reason to be grateful—and then she took her focus to her eyes again.

The eyes of a coward. The eyes of a NYPD detective who was weak. The eyes of a woman who had been helpless, had almost let her life be taken away, leaving her family to grieve their loss.

She was sure she had killed him. The blood pooling, the open, wounded flesh she had created on his face, his body. The way he just lay there—no movement, no sound, no inflammatory remarks.

Just still. She knew he would suffer after the beating she had given him. There was no doubt that this would happen. She had disfigured him, continuing to beat him well beyond the point he stopped moving. Well beyond the moment he stopped talking. Well beyond the moment she knew she was out of danger.

Olivia's lower lip began to tremble then and she lifted the pair of scissors to her hair as her face contorted with anguish, wanting to be free of this experience, wanting to remove some of what he had done to her, wanting to somehow move on and continue her perfect, wonderful life.

With tears streaming down her face, she let the blade of the open scissors touch her locks, squeezing them, hearing the sound of tiny follicles being severed from each other, split in two, and somehow she felt a certain relief, as the large clumps of locks began to float to the floor.


	8. Chapter Eight

_**Chapter Eight**_

Olivia watched as the brown-bricked building came into view, the corner building getting closer and closer, the brunette able to see their front courtyard now, the kids' tricycles just inside the gate.

Fin pulled the burgundy Caprice past her home and then made a one-eighty, turning the large sedan around and pulling up in front of the gate. Olivia looked up at the second floor, the third, noticing the light on in the front guest room, then even further up still, watching as the moths and other night creatures danced around the yellow-green bulb of the streetlight.

"Liv?"

Olivia snapped back into the present.

The fact that she was still in the car, in the enclosed space, smelling Fin's cologne, hearing the low murmur of a smooth, honey-voiced DJ in the background, the space she was in suddenly feeling restrictive, constricting.

The air in the vehicle now seemed unbearably close, thick, and she felt her lungs begin to struggle with the small task of breathing.

She needed to get out of the car, into the fresh air, breathe in the city.

Breathe in something other than what she had been inhaling the past forty-eight hours—sickness, sadism, terror, defeat.

She needed to feel little arms around her. She needed to smell the familiar scents of her children's hair, her wife's comforting smell. She needed to hear their voices and see their eyes and convey simple messages simply by looking at them, being with them.

But she also felt an undeniable yet unfamiliar need for solitude. The conflicting emotions battling as she prepared for reuniting with her family.

"Baby girl…you ready?"

His voice again and she closed her eyes. She didn't want to feel rushed. Commanded. She wanted to do things on her own terms. Not made to do anything anymore. She longed for the freedom of her own thoughts, her own actions.

She opened her eyes and then slowly focused to the front seat now and saw Fin's concerned face looking back at her, those kind, sparkling eyes empathetic.

"Liv…" His voice was soft. Familiar.

Foreign.

"Take your time..." His voice was gentle, patient.

She looked away then, back up at the townhouse, and reached for her seatbelt and unbuckled it, taking her gaze to the front door once more waiting to, perhaps, see Alex standing there, door open, ready to take her into her arms and comfort her.

But she didn't see the blonde.

She saw no one.

She watched Fin exit the car from the corner of her eye and then heard the door close, knowing he would appear next to her in just a few seconds. Olivia took a small, deep breath and then placed her hand on the handle, startled when it opened on its own and she jumped. But only slightly.

Fin held his hand out to her and she looked at him, furrowing her brow.

"I got it, Fin."

The older man took a step back then, giving her space, giving her room to exit the vehicle on her own. Giving her that decision.

She stood and stepped forward, scanning upward to the top of the three floors and then back down to the porch, watching as the front door opened, a rich, golden light surrounding her blonde wife.

She tried a smile, feeling her eyes water, a gargantuan restriction forming in her throat as she began forward, her eyes on her comfort, her love, her reason, and she started up the four steps.

* * *

Alex tried not to let the shock show. She tried desperately hard not to allow the outward evidence of what he had done to her take over her expression.

But it wasn't just that. It wasn't just the bruises on her face, the scratches on her wife's upper chest. It wasn't simply the cuts and gashes evident on her forearms, her hands.

It was also her hair. Olivia's hair was noticeably shorter.

 _Had he done that? Was it something that had to be done at the hospital?_

 _Had her wife done it?_

Outward alterations and noticeable changes aside, Alex moved to the top step of the stoop and stepped down one, her wife walking directly into her arms.

She held her firmly, yet delicately, afraid she might hurt her. But the brunette's hold on her was equally tight, assured, almost desperate.

The blonde could feel Olivia shaking beneath her hold, against her body. She brought her hands up and cradled the back of the brunette's neck with her left hand and held the back of her head with her right, and they simply held each other.

Alex's emotions flooded out of her now, her eyes tearing, her own body weakening from relief, flooded with the satisfaction that her wife was back in her view, in her presence, in her arms. She took a deep breath and inhaled her, noting the scent of an unfamiliar soap, an unfamiliar shampoo—most likely used at the hospital or precinct—but the smell of her wife was the same. Purely Olivia and purely love.

Alex closed her eyes, their two embraced bodies swaying slightly.

"God, Liv…" she whispered, "…I love you…"

She heard Olivia whimper against her ear, the brunette detective's hold on her tightening further.

"I'm so glad you're home, Olivia," Alex said softly, rubbing her wife's back gently.

Alex watched Fin as he began walking to the driver's side of the car and open the door. He smiled and waved and Alex raised a hand slightly in signal.

He started the car and then pulled away from the curb and headed down Lexington.

Alex continued to hold her, continued to feel her tremble against her, continued to feel her clenching hands on her back, squeezing, comforting, grasping.

But Olivia wasn't saying anything, she noticed.

And maybe she wouldn't.

Maybe her wife needed time and she would give her all the time she needed to begin to talk, to heal, to return to herself.

"Babe?" Alex began.

Olivia pulled away then, the two looking at each other, Alex truly seeing her wife's face for the first time in the glow of the porch light. Every bruise, every scratch, every detail of the pain he had inflicted on her was there, marring that beautiful face that she had grown to almost idolize. The one she had spent hours, days looking at. The one she had fantasized about, had longed to be with, had imagined on numerous occasions when they weren't together.

She swallowed hard and attempted to continue what she wanted to say. "I want you to be ready to talk to me, Liv."

Olivia opened her mouth then, a small effort to speak.

Alex shook her head and placed her forefinger on the brunette's mouth. "When you're ready, Liv. You've been through a lot…" Alex felt her lower lip begin to tremble, "…and I know that. And you need time." Alex sniffed, feeling the thin liquid begin its descent down her nasal passages. "And I'm gonna give you all the time you need. You, me, the kids." Alex smiled then, looking into those deeply familiar eyes, remembering. "We're all going to give you all our love and patience and kindness because we love you and we missed you…" Alex's face contorted then and she whispered, "…so much…" She brought her lips inward then in an effort not to full out blubber.

Olivia took her face into her hands, those cocoa orbs looking back and forth between her own.

Her wife wanted to say something. It was in her eyes. Alex knew them well by now.

But the brunette didn't say a word.

She only pulled her to her body again and embraced her.

And Alex knew, just in these few moments, that it would be a long, difficult road ahead of them.

And Alex would be there every step of the way.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Be sure to check out the new "Hot and Heavy" chapter, as well!


	9. Chapter Nine

_**Chapter Nine**_

Alex watched as Olivia entered the house, the brunette walking a couple of feet in front of her. The living room was dim. A lamp on the credenza and another on top of the piano were the only light in the space.

The kids were all sleeping together on the sofa—Theo laying on the length on the middle of the bigger part of the sectional, Isabel laying opposite him, their heads touching, and Grace cuddled against him, their boy's arm around her tightly.

All comforting each other, all loving each other.

Alex smiled at the sweetness and watched her wife move slowly, towards them. Olivia folded her arms and sniffed before she knelt down in front of the sofa and placed gentle hands on them—her left on Isabel's hip and her right on Grace's upper thigh.

Olivia's face contorted with emotion then, her lower lip vibrating with feeling. Her tears began mercilessly, and Alex watched as her wife became undone right in front of her.

Then movement.

Little blue eyes fluttered and then widened before they opened, focusing on their brunette mother.

"Mama…" Theo rasped, blinking several times, almost as if he was trying to refocus what he was seeing.

"Hey, baby boy," Olivia whimpered. "How's my Theo?"

The girls began stirring, as well, sitting up and rubbing their eyes.

"How are all my babies?" Olivia smiled and held her arms out.

All three gently moved into her body and the four embraced. Olivia closed her eyes and pressed her nose to all children's heads, inhaling deeply and kissing them repeatedly on any area her mouth could reach.

"You got hurt?" Theo questioned against her.

Olivia pulled away then and looked at all three, nodding. "Yeah, Theo. Mama got hurt. But I'm home now. And I'm gonna stay home, babies…and get better." She looked at all three, smiling. "OK?"

"Dat hut?" Grace questioned her face full of fret. She reached her little hand out to Olivia's eye and gently touched it with her forefinger before shoving the thumb of the same hand into her mouth, those big, brown eyes watching her.

"It does, Gracie. But it will heal, my love." Olivia's tears began once more. "Mama will get better in no time. OK?" She took Grace's other hand to her mouth and kissed it gently.

"Why dis cut, Mama?" Isabel asked, reaching for and holding a lock of her brunette mother's hair.

Alex watched as her wife's eyes teared and she swallowed.

The brunette then tried a meek smile. "Mama just wanted a little change. That's all. Do you like it?" Her voice was shaky, uncertain.

Isabel's smile was broad then and she nodded one time firmly. "I like it, Mama. So pretty."

Alex noticed Theo's face change then, into absolute stress, as he studied Olivia carefully, his little hands fidgeting with one another in his lap. Alex then watched as his big, blue eyes filled with tears, his face reddening. His sniffs turned into sobs which turned into uneven breathing and gasping as he looked at his brunette mother.

Olivia looked as though she didn't know what to do, how to act. She only placed her hand over her mouth and Alex could tell that she had begun sobbing all over again.

"Hey, hey, Baby. Your Mama's OK…" Alex offered, moving in next to her wife and kneeling, as well.

Theo reached for Alex and wrapped his arms around her, his breathing still exiting his emotional body in tiny gasps. She rubbed his back gently and kissed the shell of his ear. "Let's get to bed, guys. We're all sleepy and we all need to get in bed and rest. OK?" Alex stood and Theo wrapped his legs around her middle, his arms holding her neck tightly as he buried his face into her neck.

* * *

It was all too much.

The children were apprehensive of her appearance—namely their son. Theo's anxiety was through the roof and the girls' ability to comprehend the entire situation was beyond what could be explained to their innocent minds.

She was back at home. But somehow she wasn't.

She was back with her wife. Back in their beautiful house. Back with the kids. But, in her mind, she felt strangely separated from them.

She was back on Lexington Avenue on the Upper East Side, going about her evening as though nothing had happened.

But everything _had_ happened. And Olivia remembered every single moment of those malevolent two days.

Her vision blurred slightly, eyes glazing over, and her gaze veered to the left, just next to Grace's right leg and, without even closing her eyes, her mind went to everything in a split second in flashes—tape, chair, strikes, dragging, beating, burning.

She felt a hand on her shoulder then and her focus re-entered the here and now and she blinked a couple of times before she noticed her two beautiful daughters now standing in front of her still-kneeling form, their ivory faces studying her, Isabel's hand on her upper arm.

"Liv?" Alex's voice, above and to her right, was cautious.

Olivia looked up at her wife who was holding their son. "Yeah, Al…" Olivia stood then, wincing from the two bruised ribs she had also endured when he had shoved her forcefully with the sole of his boot, into their new getaway car, after he had shot the young officer.

"Ready to come upstairs and tuck these guys in, or…?"

Olivia furrowed her brow and looked off into the direction of the kitchen. "Why don't you go on ahead upstairs. I'm gonna get a glass of water." Olivia then looked back at the blonde and watched her face for signs of uneasiness, uncertainty.

But she didn't see any.

The blonde simply smiled, albeit meekly, empathetically. "OK, Liv."

And Olivia inwardly bristled then as she clenched her jaw tightly, already feeling coddled, held like a Faberge egg.

"Is Mama gonna tuck me in, too?" Theo's voice was verging on tears once more.

"She'll be there, Theo. She'll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in. All of you." Alex smiled down at them. "Now, let's get upstairs and get under the covers and Mommy will read that new Amelia Bedelia book you got from school. OK?"

Olivia watched as her wife escorted the kids from the room, watched them walk to the staircase, and then watched as they disappeared from sight. She stood, mouth slightly ajar, and could feel the confusion, the pensiveness on her own face.

She felt out of place. She felt like she shouldn't be there. She felt that her presence might do more harm than good to the little ones. To her wife.

She felt overwhelmingly guilty. As though this entire ordeal could have been avoided if she only had been smarter. If only she had taken control immediately in Mrs. Papamichalis's apartment.

She felt like this entire situation, this entire trauma had affected her children, her wife, in a way that she had yet to experience, had yet to unveil.

And she didn't know how or what to do with that knowledge.

What she wanted to do was lay on the sofa and curl herself into a ball, and sleep. Sleep for hours. Sleep for days. Somehow let the power of rest erase everything.

Her body was tired.

Her mind was exhausted.

But her will to overcome was still intact.

She knew that.

Slowly, still cradling her wrist, she walked to the sectional and sat on the length, staring at the coffee table. Lifting her feet and legs to her right, she placed both onto the sofa and then let her upper body slowly recline on her right side, curling herself into a semi-ball.

She felt the warmth of tears pool in her eyes once more as she closed them, wishing for her old life back. Wishing that what had happened to her had never occurred. Wishing that when she closed her eyes she didn't still see his face.

Wishing she had killed the bastard and had been done with it.

She felt her eyes roll back into her head as her lids fluttered closed and her body slowly slipped into a much needed rest, the darkness behind her lids a welcome curtain coming down on the abuse she had endured and the mental torment she had suffered.

* * *

Space.

She wanted to give her wife as much time and space as it took, as she needed.

Alex brought the sheet and quilt over her upper body, reached over with her left hand to turn the lamp off, and then lay back on the pillow before she peered over at the alarm clock to her left: _1:06 a.m._

Alex had just checked on the kids again, making sure they were sleeping, and had just come from downstairs to check on Olivia, wondering where her wife had been for the past forty-five minutes. She found the brunette sleeping on the sofa and it broke Alex's heart to see her there.

Her wife just seemed lost.

She seemed confused.

She seemed uncertain.

She seemed different.

Olivia had been through torture—mental and physical—and had been starved and inundated with alcohol and sleeping pills. She had been awake and in a constant state of panic, dread, fear, and anxiety. Alex knew that. Her body hurt, her mind even more so. Alex knew all of that to be fact.

But what pained Alex more than anything was the disconnect. The blonde didn't expect that a simple hug owuld make everything better. She didn't expect Olivia to simply see her and for all to return to normal. She knew that her reunion with the kids wouldn't just miraculously take them all back to before this happened and they would go on and have a normal Saturday with making slow, lazy love and then having Alex's famous pancakes and then reading the paper while the kids watched cartoons as if everything were normal.

She knew that, especially after working with victims of abuse for so long.

But she _needed_ Olivia. Absolutely, desperately needed her wife.

She needed her smile and her upbeat nature and the joking comments she always made and the sexy flirting that seemed to follow her when they were together. She needed the playful banter and the way the brunette showed her carefree, easy love with the kids in day to day tasks.

She needed to see that light in those beautiful, warm eyes—the light that she knew was there, hidden, waiting to be turned back up like a dimmer on a switch.

And it killed her that she might not see it for a while.

And the thought that there was even a sliver of possibility that it might never happen absolutely devastated her.

Alex heard the water in the shower in the master bedroom turn on and knew her wife was taking another shower.

This would be her second and Alex only anticipated more to come.

Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and then heard a noise.

 _A whimper? A snivel? A murmur?_

She opened her eyes and listened closer, trying to gather whether it was something to be concerned about or not.

And she heard it again. Her wife was crying. Crying and saying something, the brunette's voice small, whimpering.

Alex sat up and moved the covers aside then before she placed her feet on the floor and stood. She folded her arms and moved toward the closed bathroom door, only a sliver of light coming from beneath. She stared at the line of golden yellow on the floor and continued to listen.

Not able to make anything out except the sounds of her wife struggling, suffering. She felt her eyes fill with tears and she placed her hand over her mouth, her expression twisting behind it.

She knocked lightly with her left hand then. "Liv?"

No answer. Only the sound of the water still running. Alex could smell the familiar aroma now of the brunette's favorite shampoo—a fresh-smelling amber and sandalwood scent that suited the brunette so well—and she felt a sudden nostalgia, familiarity.

"Olivia?" she tried once more, hearing the desperation in her own voice.

Alex turned the knob then and pushed the door open to a room full of steam, the air thick like fog, the blonde only able to make out a silhouette inside the glass doors of the stall.

But the darkened form was low, as if, perhaps, on the floor inside the shower.

"Babe? Liv?" Alex stepped closer.

The figure stood abruptly and Alex watched it move away, away from her.

"Don't, Alex! _Please._ Don't come in!" Olivia's voice was desperate, panicked. A tanned hand came up then, to the top of the glass, and the towel was yanked down into the shower with the brunette.

"Babe…" Alex tried, her voice pleading, "…Liv…I just…I wanted…"

"Please, Alex! I don't want you to see me… _please_ …I just…" Olivia sobbed.

Alex slowly backed away then, toward the doorway, watching her wife stand there on the other side of the glass, both of them just waiting—Olivia for Alex to leave and Alex to overcome the initial shock of her own wife not wanting her there.

Alex turned then and exited the bathroom, closing the door behind her, her eyes glazing over as she made her way back to the bed.

She sat on the edge and just thought of the next few hours, the next few days and how they would play out, whether or not her wife would even sleep in the same bed as her, whether her wife would ever let her touch her again, whether they would look at each other the same way again.

Alex slipped beneath the covers once more and turned onto her left side and closed her eyes, feeling the warm sting of tears for the millionth time in the past two days.

Soon her body became relaxed, exhaustion taking over, and she succumbed to a much needed rest for her body and mind, hoping and praying that her relationship with her wife would return to the absolute bliss that it once had been.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed. A powerful, deep chapter. We see it won't be easy for either of them, the kids included. Thank you to those of you who have been sticking with this and enjoying it and letting me know.**

 **A "Hot and Heavy" chapter will follow this one but probably not until Sunday. But it will be out by then, I promise.**

 **Thanks for your support and kind words. It always means so much.**


	10. Chapter Ten

_**Chapter Ten**_

Holding the towel that was wrapped around her, Olivia waved her right palm across the steamed-up mirror above the pedestal sink and saw a distorted, disfigured image in front of her, and watched as it gradually became cloudy once more from the intense temperature of her shower.

It was probably better, though. She didn't want to look at herself—to view the full spectrum of what had happened to her, what he had done to her.

As she stood in the shower, moments prior, she had simply kept her eyes closed, letting the soap and gentle hands wash her body, but never looking at it. The warmth of the water, the biting pain as it skimmed across her open wounds, was somehow comforting—a sort of silent chastising to her psyche, a harsh reminder that she wasn't as strong as she thought.

Mentally or physically.

She felt her lower lip tremble as she thought of the safety of her family with absolute relief, but her emotions came on even stronger when she thought of Alex.

That look in her eyes upon their initial reunion. Relief. Love. Pity. Melancholy. Sympathy.

But the look in her eyes upon her reunion with the children?

Something she couldn't quite place, couldn't quite verbalize in her mind.

But she felt weaker in her wife's eyes, somehow. She had always felt, in their relationship, that she was the strong one. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Bending steel bars with her strong arms. Her invisible jet taking her on adventures to help the public, save the people, assist society.

She was supposed to be the rock for all of them. Alex often kidded that the brunette was the man in the relationship and Olivia knew that mostly to be true. She had the nerves, the strength, the decisive honesty, the firm aggression when she needed to.

But she somehow felt the playing field had been leveled. She had been kicked down a notch or two on the ladder and was now demoted. Not worthy. Not as bad-ass as her wife thought she had been. Not as intimidatingly flawless as everyone thought she had been.

Olivia turned and lifted the brush from the top of the cabinet and then took it to her hair and began brushing, now having much less to contend with. Once untangled, she set the brush down and moved to grab her pair of gray joggers and gray t-shirt that were neatly folded on top of the same location and began putting them on.

She had upset her wife. She knew that. Alex only wanted to help, to be there, to comfort and understand.

And she had shut her out.

She knew that and she could feel the pain that she had inflicted on her wife. She could feel the resistance of the knife as she twisted it into the blonde's stomach. Heard the slamming of metal on cement as the door hit the ground and she, in turn, pushed Alex away.

And it killed her.

It hurt her in such a way that she felt every emotion her wife had experienced at that moment.

But it wasn't within her at present to fix this.

She needed sleep. She needed to rest her head on a familiar smelling pillow, inhale the comforting essence of their bedroom, of her wife next to her, of their home, and just be.

Simply be and comprehend that she was OK. She was alive. She was fine.

And so, she turned the light of the bathroom off and exited, noting her wife's darkened form in front of her in the bed, sleeping soundly.

She lifted the covers on her side and slipped beneath them, the coolness of the cotton feeling familiar, soothing. She slowly lowered onto her back and lay her head down and pulled the sheet and blanket over her body and closed her eyes, taking in a deep, cleansing breath before releasing the air from her lungs.

Then, a sliding sound and a light touch against the left side of her left hand.

Her wife. Her attempt at a connection.

Olivia turned her hand and let her fingers interlace with the blonde's, her wife holding on equally as strong, and felt as her body relaxed further and further, deeper and deeper, sleep slipping in and taking hold of her on this, the first evening home after her harrowing ordeal.

* * *

She wasn't there.

Alex had awoken to an empty bed but it was no surprise. Olivia had been restless. Tossing. Turning. Jerking. Jumping. Unsettled. At various points throughout the night, Alex had simply lain there, watching her beautiful brunette wife, those lids fluttering, the grip on her hand tight, breathing sporadically frantic.

But there were serene moments, as well.

Maybe it was the soothing sounds Alex attempted to make with her mouth to lull her wife back to sleep. Maybe it was the familiarity of their home, of their bed. Maybe it was suddenly realizing that she was free, she was back home, she was safe.

It had been a rollercoaster night and whatever rest she saw Olivia get, Alex had gotten equivalent amounts.

Alex had awoken to a quiet house. Although a Saturday, their children were still asleep, the typical Saturday morning noise not having yet begun. But the blonde somehow hoped for it, wished for it. Longed for their squealing laughter and joviality to take over the giant space of the townhouse, their warm playfulness, giggling, and running filling their home with undeniable life and love.

She pulled a loose, lavender, long-sleeved t-shirt over her white tank top and stepped off of the last step, the downstairs just as quiet as the upstairs. The air was warm, muggy, and being barefooted and only in a thin pair of white short shorts, there was no doubt that summer was on its way.

She stopped midway between the kitchen and the front door, listening. Nothing from the kitchen or living room on her right, but there was the sound of raindrops to her left, the drops slapping against the concrete outside, a door or window in the near distance allowing the pleasant sound to enter.

Cautiously, slowly, she folded her arms and stepped into the front sitting room, spotting Olivia sitting in the sunroom, the large ropes of rain patterning the glass ceiling above her wife and the brown rattan furniture just inside.

She stepped closer still, simply watching the brunette. Olivia was barefooted, as well, in her gray sweats and t-shirt from the night prior, and her hands were folded on her lower belly, her legs outstretched, ankle over ankle, in front of her, those brown eyes staring ahead into the near distance.

Alex watched the beauty that was in front of her, that now-shoulder length hair wavy and tousled from sleep, the woman she loved more than life itself finally home and within her eyesight.

The blonde took a deep breath and let it out, relishing in this very fact, and she couldn't help but smile as she felt her emotions come on, silently thanking God for the return of her wife, the return of the most amazing mother and inspiration to their kids.

Olivia's gaze shifted then, her face still ahead, her eyes glimpsing something behind her and then she jumped, her body jolting almost violently as she stood and clasped her chest with her left hand, closing her eyes tightly.

Alex held her right palm out in innocence, in surrender, as she furrowed her brow. "Liv…I'm sorry…I didn't mean—"

Olivia was panting, her hand still on her heart as she opened her eyes. "No, it's…I'm fine, Al…" She tried a smile then and returned to her chair, now visibly shaken. She held her forehead in her hand and closed her eyes, taking in a few slow, deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Alex."

Alex stepped forward then, another couple of feet. "Can I join you?"

Olivia looked up at her. "Of _course_ you can."

Alex proceeded to sit in the chair across from her wife and saw that she had resumed her position of staring out across the street, her eyes glazing over. And so Alex did the same, noting that the light on the third floor in the townhouse across from them had just illuminated.

They sat for a few minutes, neither talking. Just simply being. Listening to the rain outside as it plinked on the glass roof above them, as it tinkled along the black wrought-iron table and chairs just outside in the courtyard.

The two began to speak simultaneously.

"Looks like the Witherspoons have finally—" Olivia began.

"The weatherman didn't say anything about rain—" Alex tried.

They smiled at each other then.

Olivia offered, "You go ahead, Al. I interrupted you."

"No, Babe. You go…" Alex smiled.

And then she watched Olivia's demeanor change. The brunette detective turned her gaze to the street once more and the blonde could see her jaw clenching, her eyes focused. She had upset her in some way. She saw the quick flash of mood change almost instantly.

Alex waited then. Waited for her wife to collect her thoughts. Waited for Olivia to formulate what it was that she wanted to say. Waited as she would continue to do for her wife for as long as it took.

After a few moments, Olivia spoke. "I don't want to be treated differently, Alex." Cocoa orbs turned and looked at her then, that gaze on her unwavering. "I don't want to be treated like I'm going to break."

Alex nodded slowly. "I won't treat you like that, Liv. Not if you tell me not to."

Olivia nodded then and looked away. "I can't take that pity from anyone. I can't take that look in people's eyes. I can't take the way it makes me feel so pathetic, so damaged."

 _But you are damaged, Liv_ , Alex thought.

"I don't want people to think I'm broken, that I'm weak."

Alex studied her wife again, watching that steely gaze, that determined look in her eyes, a hardness there. "And I won't do that, Liv." Alex leaned forward then, her right forearm on the table. "I won't rush you, Liv. I want you to know that. OK?"

Olivia nodded, her gaze ahead, those chocolate brown eyes tearing.

"You've been home less than twenty-four hours, Babe. You need time to process, to think, to talk…" Alex watched her wife then, the brunette's face twitching slightly, her hands unfolding from her lower belly and clenching the air as her wrists rested on her upper thighs, her wife remembering something—one of the horrendous memories, feelings, or experiences—and Alex stood then and moved around the table and knelt in front of her wife. She took her hands and held them gently. "Olivia…" Alex felt her eyes begin to tear then, her lower lip to tremble. "What you've been through, I can't imagine the nightmare you endured, my love…" Alex's tears began to fall, "…but I am here for you when you're ready. Any time, day or night, I am here and will always be here…"

Olivia nodded then and they both took a moment to cry, to let it all out, and both comprehend that they were still a marital unit, two hearts and souls working as one, eager and ready to mend the other in the time it took to do so.

* * *

Hot, liquid metal pressing into her left side, the sound of singeing flesh, the smell of burning skin, the pain intense.

She felt a cool slipperiness in her hand then, a slickness sliding along the pads of the fingers of her right hand and then a loud shattering noise.

Olivia jolted then, blinking hard a couple of times before widening her eyes at what had just happened.

A glass in a thousand pieces where she stood in between the kitchen sink and the island, water everywhere.

She looked up at her family at the kitchen table and took note of their stunned faces—Theo, Isabel, and Grace's mouths opened, their expressions surprised—and then her wife, who was rushing into the kitchen now, opening the drawer next to the sink and removing a couple of clean dishtowels.

"It's OK. Mama just had an accident," Alex virtually chirped. Blue eyes met her own then and Olivia's mouth moved to speak but nothing came out.

"Liv?" Concerned ocean blue orbs looked at her then.

Olivia opened and closed her mouth once more, the words not coming, watching as the blonde stepped closer.

"Why don't you go take a few minutes, Babe?" Alex placed her hand on Olivia's upper arm and began rubbing slowly. "OK?"

Olivia only nodded and looked at the kids once more, their eyes on her every move. She stepped around the scattered fragments of slivered glass and made her way to the hallway, onward toward the staircase, before jogging up to the second floor. She placed her hand over her mouth then, hearing a small whimper escape, as she entered the master bedroom and walked to her side of the bed. She slipped onto it, on top of the comforter, and rested her head on her pillow, closing her eyes tightly and sobbing as she held her knees against her chest, holding them firmly, feeling the sharp pulling pain of her fractured ribs, the strain of her braced wrist, the pulling of healing, scabbing-over skin.

* * *

Olivia closed her eyes and inhaled Isabel's freshly washed locks, taking in the innocence, the sweetness. She placed a kiss on her forehead and then stood carefully, trying not to wake her.

They had just bathed all three, had gotten them in their pajamas, and had read three books to them.

Now they were all out, asleep, off in dreamland, and Olivia couldn't help but watch the three cuddled so sweetly in the golden glow of the small, bedside table lamp. Theo was sleeping in Isabel's bed, Grace in her own. The brunette folded her arms and simply watched them sleep, their little chests rising and falling, Isabel's mouth open, heavy breathing being emitted.

Alex kissed Grace's cheek then and tucked her in tighter before moving toward the brunette and standing next to her, the two now watching together.

"Iz is a heavy sleeper."

"Since she was a baby." Olivia smiled.

"Let's let Theo stay here. He can go back to his bed when he wakes up."

Olivia nodded. "OK," she said softly.

"You ready?" Alex questioned.

Olivia looked at her then, that porcelain face so close, so flawless, the blueness of her eyes so familiar, so comforting. "Yeah…"

Alex reached beneath the lamp shade and clicked it closed before the two made their way out of the room, leaving the door open a crack behind them.

Olivia felt her wife's hand on the small of her back then, guiding her down the hallway to their bedroom. She stopped then and turned, moving in close to the blonde. She took her face into her hands and simply looked at her.

Alex's eyes became concerned and she covered the brunette's hands with her own. "Liv?"

Olivia tried a small smile. "I'm not OK, Al. You know that, right?" Olivia felt her eyes fill with tears again.

Alex stepped even closer then, cocking her head to the side. "I know that, Babe. I know you're not." Alex swallowed.

Olivia nodded and brought her lips inward. "And I want to tell you everything, Alex," she whispered. "All of it." She felt her mouth tremble then. "I want to show you what he did to me…I want to let you in…"

Alex nodded, those incredibly blue eyes tearing as well. "I know you do, Liv…" she said softly.

"But I'm not ready yet…" she sobbed, feeling her body weaken, shaking with emotion.

Alex pulled her to her body then and they embraced. "I know, my love. I know you want to share with me, Babe…" she began rubbing her back slowly, soothingly, "…and I'll be here when you're ready, Liv…"

Olivia only closed her eyes and nodded against her wife, feeling the warmth, the comfort, the safety and security, as she held her tighter. They stayed like that, swaying slightly, connecting through the power of touch, knowing that, although the process would be long and arduous, the healing had begun and the pathway to overcoming what William Lewis had done to her would only get better from this point forward.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**Chapter Eleven**_

 _Sunday Evening: 2 days post return_

At nine-thirty, Alex entered the living area and immediately noticed the brightness, every lamp and light in the space illuminated, her wife sitting on the sofa with her knees drawn to her chest, arms holding them tightly against her, a large blue mug in her right hand. Olivia was staring into space, straight ahead at the TV that was currently not on—a black screen with only the reflection of the room to look at—"Take Off" by Alice Wonder playing through the speakers on either side of the credenza—the song the perfect mood, the exact enhancing tune for the vibe at that moment.

Olivia had had a difficult day—a difficult weekend—and Alex had been understanding. Although not easy. An extremely small fraction of that time, the brunette would appear her typical enthusiastic self, laughing and smiling and taking in the joy that was their lives. But for the most part, it would emerge. She would slip into her own mind, her own thoughts and would become vacant, expressionless as they attempted to carry out normal activities—grocery store, laundry, little tasks like emptying the dishwasher and changing the sheets. Her wife had been either sullen or irritable, her emotions turned on and off like a switch. And Alex didn't have a clue how to predict them, much less console them.

Olivia still hadn't shared any information. Not one word. And Alex didn't expect her to just spill a detailed minute-by-minute account of the horror she had gone through. But the looming cloud of what had happened was there, ever-present, darkening the skies above them and everyone that said cloud blanketed.

And even the kids had been affected.

From the moment that Alex realized that her wife was missing, their ability to perceive anxiety, danger, and fear in their blonde mother was ever on point, even for such young ages.

But now that Olivia had returned and had physically shown that she still existed in the flesh and had come home and had not left them, that nagging anxiousness was still there. And as long as Olivia kept all of it inside, kept it confined inside that beautiful mind and constantly thought about her ordeal, Alex knew that things around the house, around the kids, and around each other would continue to be strained and tense.

Alex watched as Olivia untucked her legs, placed her bare feet on the floor, and then reached forward for the remote to the stereo and then shut it off with the pressing of a button, muting all beautiful noise and now filling the space with silence. The brunette then leaned back once more and sat with her hands on either side of her upper thighs, her gaze returning to the black rectangle.

Alex averted her gaze then and stepped into the kitchen and moved toward the refrigerator and opened the door. She took note of the gallon of milk—three-fourths full—and lifted the lid to peek inside the egg carton—eight left—before she opened the deli drawer and saw that there were two, unopened packages of smoked turkey—plenty for the week—stocked up on lettuce and vegetables and bread and she felt her eyes glaze over as her gaze remained fixed on the carton of almond milk on the top shelf.

She knew all of this, though. Knew the inventory of the large appliance very well.

After all, they had gone grocery shopping that very day and she knew the exact items that they had and knew they needed nothing. She was only trying to keep herself busy, keep her hands and mind occupied. Something to fill the vacancy that was usually filled with her wife's voice and her own, their playful, flirtatious banter fluttering around, their frequent, comforting, random touches, their symbiotic relationship.

She shut the door and turned to find Olivia now sitting on one of the stools of the kitchen island, her forearms on the smoky gray surface, her fingers fiddling with one another, picking at a cuticle on one of them.

"They want me to start seeing a therapist." Brown eyes looked up at her then. "The precinct already has one set up for me to start going on Mondays, starting tomorrow. Dr. Lindstrom."

Alex stepped closer and leaned with her forearms on the same surface, just opposite her wife. "And how do you feel about that?"

Olivia smiled then, "Classic therapist question, right?" Her eyes returned to the skin on her left thumb and Alex watched as she began picking at it once more. "I don't know, Alex. But I do know I don't want to talk to a total stranger about what happened to me…" she looked up then, "…especially since I haven't even shared what happened to me with _you_ …"

Alex nodded slowly, her eyes going to the brunette's hands, watching as her picking became even more pronounced, more aggressive.

Then Alex noticed it. On Olivia's palms. There were small reddish impressions in a row, right in the middle.

The brunette looked up then and caught Alex's focus before she quickly fisted her hands.

Alex looked at her wife then, into trepidatious cocoa orbs, a hint of embarrassment floating across them, but only for a moment.

Knowing she could rock the boat with the question she wanted to ask so desperately, she proceeded forth nonetheless.

"What happened, Liv?" The blonde's voice was soft, patient.

Olivia opened her hands then, and then studied her own skin, still angling them towards herself as if to shield them. "It's healing, Al…don't worry." She closed her hands again and returned her gaze to her wife.

Alex stepped closer then, to the right of the brunette, and reached forward, taking Olivia's hands into her own, the brunette's hands fisted again, palms facing up. "Let me see, Liv."

Alex watched her wife. Those chocolate eyes were so conflicted, so apprehensive, so defeated. The blonde let gentle thumbs slowly uncurl the other fingers to uncover her wife's palms. On each were four, crescent-shaped indentations that were raw, sore, a few still wet with fresh blood. A couple of them were healing. And they looked painful.

Alex felt her lower lip tremble then, still wanting to be strong for her wife. "When?" That was all she said.

And Olivia must have known what she meant because those beautiful, deep brown eyes began tearing as well, and Alex could see that she was ready to share a small sliver of information—a glimpse into her story.

"The night he took me…" Olivia whispered, "…he…uh…" Olivia sniffed then, "…he burned me and that's one of the things I did to help me…deal with the pain…"

Alex watched her wife, watched her struggle to recount just one of the things she experienced. Alex nodded slowly, feeling the moisture descend her nostrils, the tears begin down her cheeks, the lump in her throat.

"He burned me, Al…" Olivia looked at her, then, those sad, dark eyes scanned back and forth between her own, the pain in them almost unbearable, "…more than once. All over my body." Her face contorted then and she swallowed hard. "It hurt so bad…cigarettes…hot keys…but all I could think about…" she began sobbing then, her body racking with emotion.

And Alex moved into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tightly, the brunette returning the firm hold.

Olivia continued, "…was you and the kids and how badly I wanted to make it out of there and back to you."

Alex could feel her wife's body trembling beneath hers, her tremoring torso almost inconsolable, the gasps against her ear heartbreaking, her sudden whimpering almost hopeless.

Alex began rubbing her wife's back gently, the two rocking.

"Shhhh, Baby…I'm so sorry, Liv…" Alex soothed.

Her wife's body against her was one of the only things that could bring her peace in her life. And this moment was no exception. The warmth of her, the scent of her, the familiarity of her, and Alex suddenly felt overcome with the weight of this fact, as she fell further into the embrace and allowed her body to just meld with her wife's.

They stayed like that for a few moments, both just relishing in a sliver of sharing, even if it was only a modicum of information.

Alex felt Olivia take a deep breath against her, felt her face against her neck, felt the warmth of her exhale against her shoulder and upper neck and she continued to rub her back ever-so-slowly—up and then back down, up and then back down.

"I feel out of place, Al…in my home," she whimpered. "I don't understand it. I feel like a stranger here…like the kids don't know me, like _you_ don't know me…I just…I can't explain it but that's the way I feel." Olivia sniffed.

Alex smiled and held her tighter, her wife was revealing a little more now, bit by bit, and it caused her hopes to soar once more. "I understand that you feel that way, Liv. I really do. And it's gonna take time for you to get back to yourself and feel comfortable, Babe. OK?"

Olivia nodded against her shoulder. "I know."

"It's gonna be harder before it gets easier…especially with the therapy, Liv. That's not gonna be easy."

Olivia's hold loosened then and then she pulled away, placing her hands below Alex's elbows to cup them. "I want _you_ to know before the doctor, Al. After everything you and I have shared, after all we've been through in the past years, it doesn't seem right to me to spill everything to someone I don't even know without telling you first."

Alex only nodded, studying Olivia's expression—pleading, honest, real.

"Are you ready to listen, Babe?" Olivia's eyebrows raised slightly, her eyes beginning to tear once more.

Alex felt her face change then, her mouth contorted with emotion once more and she nodded fervently. "Of course, Liv…" she whispered, "…I will always be here to listen, to go through this healing with you, Babe." She smiled and cocked her head to the side, her lower lip trembling. "You and I are a team, Liv, and will always be a team. Right?"

Olivia only nodded, her tears now streaming down her face. She pulled the blonde into her arms again and they embraced and Alex felt her wife melt against her, felt her body relax, her soul take a deep breath.

The small sound of movement then and the ladies turned to find Grace rounding the corner of the banister and heading their way, thin pink night gown on, long blonde hair disheveled from sleep. She was dragging something and Isabel was holding up the tail end.

Alex began chuckling when she realized what it was. They had tied four or five animals and dolls together to form a chain and were, maybe _walking_ them?

"Hey Babes. Whatcha got there?" Alex stepped toward their girls who were now proudly displaying their offering.

"Day are going to keep you safe and you can hug them and day make you happy!" Isabel beamed, throwing her hands in the air—her ensemble a mirror image of her twin's.

"Day are for you, Mama, Mommy. Izzie and me don't need them. We want you to have them." Grace's expression was serious as she nodded fervently. "OK?" Brown eyes looked back and forth between her mothers before her thumb slid into her mouth.

Alex and Olivia moved even closer then and looked at each other before Alex squatted.

"Who have we got here?" Alex asked.

"Dis, Mr. Monkey and Miss Daisy and dis is Snakey…" Isabel tried.

"Dat not Snakey!" Grace spouted. "Dat Sammy Snake!" Grace's scowl and increasingly pink face were more than endearing.

"OK, OK, guys." Alex looked up at Olivia who now had her arms folded, the brunette smiling at their daughters. "Remember, sometimes we have different names that other people call us?"

"Mmmm, hmmmm," the girls agreed, nodding.

"Well, so does this snake here…" Alex began taking the proffered animals into her arms.

Olivia grabbed the other end and they held them against their bodies.

"You sleep with dem?" Grace's expression was expectant.

"We'll sleep with them, Baby."

"You promise?" Isabel inquired.

Alex and Olivia looked at each other once more and smiled.

"We promise," Olivia answered.

Alex held her hand out to Grace and she took it. "Now, let's get back to bed so you can be ready for school tomorrow, OK?"

They all began walking down the hallway, Olivia holding Isabel's hand, and headed toward the staircase.

"You happy of da friends?" Isabel asked with her squeaky voice, looking up at Olivia.

"Very happy, Baby. Thank you."

"I love you, Mama!" Isabel beamed.

"And I love you, too, my Izzie." Olivia's voice trembled. "Very much."

* * *

Olivia took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had showered and slipped her thin, white, jersey nightshirt on and had just brushed her teeth and her hair.

She was ready to let her wife in, let her know exactly what happened to her. This was an experience that she never thought would come. She and her wife had always been so physically free with each other, so unabashed when sharing their bodies that, keeping hidden, doing everything possible to avoid exposing her body to her wife seemed almost wrong.

She wanted to let Alex in. She wanted to allow her wife into her current world and wanted the freedom that came with it. No amount of therapy and talking and analyzing would take the place of being completely exposed and vulnerable to her wife.

And so, she looked at herself once more, took another deep breath, turned and flipped the lights witch off and opened the door.

Her eyes immediately went to Alex who was sitting propped up by pillows in bed, a book in her lap. Cerulean pools looked at her above the top of her reading material and she smiled.

Olivia moved to her own side of the bed and stood, watching as her wife closed the book and set it to her left on the night stand and removed her glasses. Then, she leaned back against the three pillows and the two looked at each other.

Then, Olivia slowly reached down to the hem of her gown and then lifted it upward—past her hips, past her belly, past her breasts—before removing it completely.

Her gaze moved back to her wife and she saw the blonde immediately emotional, lower lip trembling, her left hand going to cover her mouth, those amazingly blue eyes tearing.

Olivia couldn't help but feel the same sentiment as she felt her own eyes fill with tears. "I want you here for everything, Al. I want you in my world, Babe."

Alex nodded and then moved the covers off of her body and then kneeled on the bed, slowly crawling towards her on her knees. Olivia moved closer to the edge and let the tops of her upper thighs touch the mattress, watching Alex come closer still. Those clear blue eyes scanned her body, scanned her injuries, scanned her new imperfections, before returning to her own gaze.

Alex leaned forward then and kissed the thin, crosshatch-patterned cuts along her upper chest—the ones he had made with the broken meth pipe—and the blonde placed a gentle kiss on the inflamed skin that was now scabbing slightly from time and healing.

She pulled backward and moved into the brunette then, holding her arms out, and Olivia entered them without hesitation, the two embracing.

"You made it out, my love. You're alive. You will heal, Liv. You will recover from this, Babe. And I'm gonna be here with you every step of the way."

Olivia nodded against her wife, feeling the relief, a slight amount of her pent-up anxiety being released. "I know you will, Babe." Olivia closed her eyes and relished in the comfort against her, her wife's scent always able to do that. "But it feels like Mount Everest right now. And I've only just begun to climb."

"I know, my love." Alex took a deep breath and let it out.

"I feel like…like I'm not ready for this…"

"I know, Liv…"

"Theo asked me this morning why I'm so sad. I didn't know what to tell him. It was the first time I had no clue what to say to our son."

Alex nodded slowly. "I know..."

"I feel like…like I need some time, some space…something different or some different scenery so that I don't still see his face. I need something to give me new images, remind me of amazing memories. Somewhere…I don't know. I can't…I can't explain it…"

Alex pulled away then. "And you don't need to explain to me...I know that you need that, Liv." Blue eyes studied her then, thinking. "What about the beach house? What about going to therapy tomorrow and then driving out to the beach house for a couple of days? I could bring the kids next weekend?" Alex raised her eyebrows, a slight smile on her face. "Maybe by then you'll be ready for a little company?"

Olivia nodded. "That might be good. It'll give me a chance to start to clear my mind. Take in the sun and sand and have a little time to think…" Olivia's eyes went to her wife's mouth then, but only briefly, before returning.

"And you can come back any time."

"And I can come back any time, Al." Olivia smiled.

The two held each other once more and Olivia suddenly felt peace, a fraction of the weight being lifted, knowing that she had just peeled off another layer towards the process that was her healing.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it's been longer than usual. I've been sick with allergies and sinuses and have been slowly working on this. Unfortunately, a hot and heavy chapter won't be following, but you all got one on Halloween evening. Thank you for your patience and I hope this chapter was worth the wait. As always, I would love to hear what you thought of this chapter.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Patricia**


	12. Chapter Twelve

_**Chapter Twelve**_

 _Monday Morning_

" _Why_ , Mama?" Theo's little voice was high, almost whiny. "Why are you leaving again?"

Olivia held his little hips in her hands as she remained squatted in front of him, looking that mocha complexion over before looking back into those crystal blue eyes. "It's only for a few days, my boy. I promise." Olivia tried a smile before taking her hand to his hair and raking her fingers through it, trying to flatten a sleep-induced cowlick that was standing up straight in his thick locks.

"But you said you were _staying_! You said you were staying home to get better!" His face scrunched then and he threw himself into the brunette's body and buried his face in her upper chest.

Olivia wrapped her arms around his small form and closed her eyes, cradling the back of his head with her left hand, feeling as he sobbed against her, inhaling the innocent scent of his thick, chocolate locks. "I know, Baby. It's only for a few days. You only have one more week of school until summer. Then Mommy's gonna bring you and your sisters out there, to the beach house, to come visit me. Then we can swim and have a cookout and eat tons of ice cream and popsicles. How does that sound, Theo?" Olivia pulled away then and placed her hands back on their son's hips.

Theo sniffed, those morose eyes looking into her own before scanning her face and then dipping downward to her upper chest.

Olivia had been trying to wear clothing that would cover up her healing wounds, but the shirt she was wearing at present just barely covered the scratches on her upper chest—a loose, gray, one-pocket T-shirt. She was planning on wearing a black blazer over it, but hadn't put it on yet for the day.

She looked down and noticed that the neckline was low, exposing more than she would have liked for their children to see, she placed the flats of her hands on her jean-clad thighs and then pushed herself to stand, wincing from the shooting pain in her wrist and ribs. She struggled not to whimper in pain as she did so.

Then she caught eyes with her wife who was standing by the kitchen table, having just served all three kids a bowl of oatmeal with peaches and milk, all three ready and in their school uniforms for the day. Alex's eyes were cautious, resigned. They both knew that this was the best course of action for the time being and both knew that the kids, after just having had their brunette mother back, wouldn't take the news of her impending departure well.

After making the decision, the previous evening, for Olivia to head off for the beach house following her first session of therapy, they hadn't had a chance to share the plans with the children until this morning. And, as expected by both ladies, Theo, above all of them, was taking it the hardest.

Grace's eyes were fretful, her thumb already in her mouth. Isabel's big blue eyes watched all interactions, her expression full of things she wanted to say as they both sat in kitchen chairs, warm bowls of hot breakfast in front of them.

Olivia folded her arms then and looked at the kids, all looking at her. "I gotta go, Babes. But we'll see each other in a few days. OK?" She cocked her head to the side. "Can Mama get a kiss and hug from the best babies in the world?" Olivia's voice shook.

The kids were at her side then, Olivia leaning over to accommodate their little arms and bodies and hugging them and kissing them as best she could in her physical state, lifting things advised against by the doctor.

She stood erect and then moved to the kitchen island and reached for the handle of her brown, canvas and leather, weekender bad.

"I'll get it, Babe." Alex was there then, her hand on top of her own on the handle. "Let me. I'll walk you to the car." Alex smiled.

Olivia only nodded and headed toward the garage door. She opened it and stepped down into the darkened space, her skin crawling suddenly from the lack of vision. Quickly, she reached to her right and felt for the button to open the large door and pressed it.

"Liv?" Alex's body was right there, behind her, close.

Brightness began to fill the space and Olivia closed her eyes and took a small breath.

"Hey…Olivia? Are you OK to drive? Are you sure you're up for two and a half hours? I could call a—"

Olivia smiled then and faced her wife. "Put the bag down, Alex. _Please_."

Alex squatted slightly and set the bag down before rising back up to meet her wife's gaze. Olivia placed her hands on the blonde's jawline.

"I'll call you when I get there, Al. I'll be fine. I need this. I have music. The open road. Then I'll have one of my most favorite places to be and I'll be fine. I need this, Babe."

Alex nodded, her gaze dipping to her wife's mouth before returning to her eyes. "I know you do."

"I just…" Olivia felt her eyes begin to water, the moisture coming immediately, "…I can't try to do things like it didn't happen…day-to-day things. You know? Not yet. Not right now. Do you understand, Babe?"

Alex swallowed and placed her own hands on her wife's face, as well. "I do get it, Liv. You know I do." The blonde's voice was soft, understanding.

Olivia nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. "I love you…" She then leaned in and gently pressed her mouth to her wife's.

It was the first time they had kissed since the entire ordeal, since parting company that Wednesday morning before she left for work—and so many emotions and sensations rushed in as that softness touched softness.

The familiarity, the sensuality, the comfort of her wife's mouth on her own left her wanting more, wanting the validation, the safety, yet she pulled away, her eyes still closed.

"I love you, too, Liv…" Alex rasped.

"You didn't make your parents leave just for me, did you?" Olivia opened her eyes and raised her eyebrows.

"No, Babe." Alex smirked. "A trip to Malta has been on their bucket list for a while. It was perfect timing, actually."

Olivia nodded, looking that clear, porcelain complexion over, her mouth so pink, those eyes so perfectly blue. "My session is at eight," Olivia husked scanning the patient, understanding beauty in front of her. "I gotta go…"

"I know you do, Liv…" Alex bent over and took the handles of the bag before following the brunette to the driver's side of the BMW.

Olivia opened the door and placed her left forearm on top of it. "I'll call when I get there, OK? It should be around noon."

"I'll have my phone with me." Alex smiled.

Olivia moved to sit in the vehicle and brought both booted feet in with her as Alex placed the bag in the back seat and shut the door.

Alex stopped next to the opened, driver's side door. "Liv?"

Olivia looked up from placing the key in the ignition.

"We're gonna get through this."

Olivia nodded and swallowed back the sudden lump. "I know, Al. I know we will."

Alex shut the door and then took a couple of steps backward and folded her arms.

Olivia watched her as she started the car, put the gear into reverse, pulled out of the driveway, and then watched as the huge rolling door made its way back down.

* * *

"Be good, my loves. OK?" Alex called after her three children, watching as the girls stood facing the open door of the back seat and watched as Theo got their lunch bags from the floor of the back seat and handed them to his sisters.

"We will, Mommy!" Grace chirped, taking Isabel's hand, the two beginning to walk.

"Bye, Mommy!" Isabel beamed, looking back slightly.

"Get back here, Izzie!" Theo commanded. "I'm your big brother! Wait for me!" Theo slammed the door and darted toward his sisters.

Theo's negative demeanor hadn't improved since Olivia had said goodbye to them and Alex anticipated that it probably wouldn't, even given time to shake it off throughout the day. She knew she was in for a week of constantly trying to console, soothe, and placate their children. She was almost positive of it.

Alex watched as Theo took Isabel's right hand, the three now moving toward the building.

"Morning, Mrs. Benson-Cabot," a familiar voice was to her left, her window cracked slightly. Alex looked at the kids once more, saw that they were now entering the building, Theo waving, and then she turned back to the statuesque, older, gray-haired woman.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Haverford," Alex smiled.

"You doing OK?"

"Y-yeah. Doing OK." Alex furrowed her brow.

"You're wondering why I'm asking?" She smiled.

"A little. Yeah."

"Theo was talking about how his Mama wasn't home and then he said she was out getting a bad guy and that he wanted her home. Is everything OK now? I know being the wife of a police officer isn't easy."

Alex only offered a thin smile. "Everything's OK. Olivia is back now…well, she's OK. She has some physical injuries, but she's been home for the past couple of days."

"Well, all I know is all the children had something to say about it. They really missed her. Sensed something was wrong, I think."

Alex only nodded, noting that small raindrops had begun speckling the front windshield.

"Well, I won't keep you. Just wanted to make sure everything was OK." Mrs. Haverford took a step back, opened her umbrella, and then raised her right hand. "You have a great day, OK?"

"I will. Thank you. You, too." Alex put the gear in drive and then slowly pulled out of the circular drive and onto the street.

So the kids had been affected more than she thought. How could they not? Olivia being gone, even for such a small amount of time, had an impact on them and they knew something was wrong, even before the facts presented themselves.

Alex thought of her wife then and smiled, her lower lip trembling.

Olivia had revealed herself fully to her on the previous evening. She had given her the ultimate gift of trust and vulnerability. She had exposed herself without hesitation and with complete openness.

When Alex had first seen her face when she ascended the steps on the night she returned, she had seen what he had done, her face not easily hidden, the part that was out in the open for all to see. The bruise surrounding her left eye. The contusion and cuts on the left side of her forehead, held together with thin strips of tape. The dried with blood cut above her upper lip.

But that was simply her face.

What had taken Alex's breath away, had caused the sickness to stir inside of her and made her want to commit murder was what he had done to Olivia's body.

He had marred her.

He had branded her.

He had terrorized her.

He had done so much damage on that beautiful skin that she couldn't imagine the pain and torture that Olivia had gone through as she looked the brunette's form over.

The amount of pain she felt at that moment upon her wife's reveal was incomparable. The amount of anger she felt even more so.

The amount of small, round, deep raw burns on her breasts, in between then, along her belly and upper thighs was unfathomable. The long, thin gouges in her beautiful flesh, the redness screaming out in pain, in the brutality he had put her through. The bruising along her hips, as though kicked repeatedly. Her knees were even bruised. The raw bluish-red indentations on her wrists, the skin scraped and exposed.

She had restrained her reaction for the sake of her wife. But she wanted to scream, to wail, to fist her hands and cry. She wanted to grab a gun and go find him and shoot the son-of-a-bitch herself.

But she knew he would get his in court.

Instead, she had held her wife. She wanted Olivia to feel accepted and loved and wanted above all else in the world. She wanted her wife's undying spirit and bright golden light to shine through again. She wanted the magical quality of her smile and that laugh back.

But she knew it would take time.

This tiny interlude that Olivia had planned to take would be good for the brunette. At least that's what Alex hoped. Alex would miss her, but the consolation was that her wife was OK. She was alive and would heal.

Olivia hadn't shared the story yet. She had told the blonde that it would be soon. But Alex didn't want to rush her. She wanted Olivia to tell her when she was ready. Maybe the coming weekend would be the moment she let her know just exactly what had happened to her. No matter when Olivia decided to divulge her experiences with her wife, Alex would be ready to listen, ready to accept, ready to hear and be there for her wife in any way that she could.

For better or worse.

They were in this together.

* * *

Olivia listened to the radio DJs talk about an anticipated sweltering summer to come as she gripped the steering wheel and headed down Highway 27 towards Southampton.

The road passed by, the gray pavement blurring as the white rectangles flashed repeatedly, as though flags of surrender every second—flash of white, gray, flash of white, gray.

 _She brought the iron rod above her head and brought it down with force, screaming as she did so. She brought it up again and let it swing down once more. She did this repeatedly, the sounds coming from her own mouth almost unrecognizable as she continued to swing, continued to watch the spraying of blood, the splattering of skin and fragments of hair and exposing bone. She kept swinging as she thought of the humiliation. Thought of the fact that her children almost lost a mother. Thought of the dignity he had taken from her that chipped away at her soul, her self-esteem._

Olivia gasped as she heard the loud blaring horn of a car headed toward her on the opposite side of the highway, the brunette having lost focus and veering into that lane. She blinked a couple of times and re-focused, swallowing hard as she felt perspiration bead along above her upper lip and forehead.

She took a deep breath and let it out.

She was having these flashbacks and Dr. Lindstrom said that was normal. Although she didn't give him any details about her experience. She had promised her wife that she would tell her first and she had stuck to that plan.

She wanted Alex to know before the doctor.

It meant more to her than a smooth first session.

And so, that morning while in his office, she hadn't said much. Only agreed to coming to meet once a week and more if she felt the need. He knew of what had happened to her and only presumed that she was quiet and gave short responses because it was a new situation.

But the truth of the matter was she needed to tell her wife. There was no other exception and Olivia wouldn't have it any other way. Alex was too important to her and her wife's comprehension of what happened to her and having that knowledge was one of the caveats she needed on this road to recovery.

Yes, telling her wife would be a huge stepping stone in the process of self-assessment.

And she wanted to tell her wife the next time they physically met.

And that would be this coming weekend.

Olivia pulled up to the gate that would lead to the long graveled road that would lead to the beach house of 1900 Meadow Lane, and rolled the window of the vintage beamer down and reached her hand out, sliding the card into the reader. The gates began to open slowly, that heavy, creaking sound familiar and somehow soothing.

So many memories had been made here. She and Alex's rekindled romance. Their engagements. Unending nights of making love freely. Then there were the kids. Babies in water, playing in sand, having the time of their lives.

Love and memorable experiences.

That was what she needed. The knowledge that what had happened to her was only a sliver in the pie of what was her amazing life.

And she knew, with her heart and soul, that being here would be a spiritual experience, reminding her that she was more than what happened. More than the physical appearance of what he had done. More than the vicious thoughts he had placed in her head.

She was Olivia Benson, and she was a survivor.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: March 2015, Katie died; This takes place in May 2015.**

 _ **Chapter Thirteen**_

 _Monday Afternoon_

Right hand on the worn leather handle of her overnight duffel, Olivia leaned forward and reached into the back seat to grab it from the floorboard, feeling the pull in her upper, left ribs. She gritted her teeth and took a sharp intake of air as she closed her eyes and let go, standing erect once more, the painful sensation taking her breath away momentarily. She slammed the door shut and closed her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.

Then, a beautiful sound distracted her, taking her mind from her impending task momentarily.

She closed her eyes to the sound of the waves crashing just beyond the house, around the other side—a pleasant distraction away from the fact that unpacking would be more than a simple chore and realizing that she would need to take out a couple of items at a time to get all of her belongings into the beach house.

She inhaled the scent of fresh, salty sea air and then opened her eyes, looking at the classic Hamptons-style house in front of her—gray wood, white trim—and smiled as she eyed the front door.

That front door that lead to the bottom floor. The front door that she and Alex had stumbled into on many a night. That front door that led to their solitary lair of love, the place where they couldn't be touched, be disturbed.

She felt the warm wetness of a tear roll down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly, not sure why or when she had begun getting emotional.

Maybe there would be someone that could help her with her bag. But who? Katie had died a month prior. Mr. Wexley was not around any longer. Jonathan was back in Manhattan with his own family. There was absolutely no one there to help her, even with the simple task of carrying a ten-pound bag to the house for her. And, at that moment, she felt helpless all over again.

She steeled her expression and clenched her jaw, moving to yank the handle of the backseat of the small beamer open, feeling the pull once more but not caring.

She was going to do this. On her own.

She leaned over and reached inside, ignoring the ripping sensation along the muscles of her side, the sudden jolting pain in the bones just below her breasts and, with deep and quick, spit-filled inhales and exhales, she slung the bag over her shoulder and slammed the door, feeling her face contort in pain and emotion.

She placed her hands over her face then and cried. Cried as she listened to the ocean once again. Cried as the sea gulls cawed and flew above her head. Cried as the sun descended in the sky and the timed porch light illuminated.

She was hungry.

She was exhausted.

And all she wanted to do was take a shower and crawl beneath the covers of she and Alex's bed and be enveloped in memories of the past, of a simpler time, of everything before this one, life-changing occurrence happened to her.

So that's just what she did.

* * *

 _Tuesday Morning_

Alex sat with her forehead in her hand, eyes roaming over a term paper she had been staring at for close to an hour. The words were swimming around on the page, merging with each other to create new words like _happenbut_ and _stancelegal_. Not actual words but, in her mind, in her mental and physical state her eyes couldn't help but double as they virtually crossed from fatigue.

She hadn't slept well at all on the previous evening. Once Olivia had finally called at six that evening to let her know she was fine and had made it there, she had finally settled down enough to relax and let sleep take her for the evening. But Alex was still more than a wreck.

Her mind was constantly on Olivia. How she was doing. What she was thinking. Was she having flashbacks? How was she handling them? All of this, combined with taking care of three small children and making sure their needs were met, both emotionally and physically, and her utter exhaustion from not having had a full night's sleep in days, was causing her to question her competency at being a mother, at being a good wife, at her job as a teacher, and also, at times, question her sanity.

She turned back to the first page and then scrawled a quick note about needing to see that particular student before she wrote a big "70" with her blue, felt-tip pen and then set it aside, dropping her pen and now cradling her forehead with both hands. She took a deep breath and let it out just as she heard a knock on her office door.

She looked up to see a shadow of a figure behind the frosted glass, just standing there.

"Come in." Her eyes remained fixed on the door as it opened, revealing a pleasantly familiar face.

It was Fin.

She smiled and stood, moving around her desk to greet him. "Fin…" She held her arms out and they embraced, Alex holding on tighter than she had ever done with her wife's partner.

They pulled away and Alex could see the empathy in his expression, on that mocha face, those kind eyes studying her own.

"Hey, Cabot. You doin' OK?"

Alex offered a thin smile. "Not really, Fin." Alex moved to lean against her desk and motioned for the older man to sit in one of the chairs in front of it.

"Nah, nah. I can't stay. I just was in the area and wanted to come check on you. That's all. See if you need anything."

Alex felt her lower lip tremble at his sincerity, his kindness. She shook her head and reached to her left for a tissue from the box on top of her desk. She pulled two out and then held them to her nose.

"You're not OK, are you?" Fin moved closer and lowered his head to really look at her.

Alex shook her head. "I'm scared, Fin," she whined. "I'm scared that she's not gonna be OK. I'm scared that…I've lost her…" Alex felt her face contort then and she held the softness of the tissue against her nose and mouth, almost like a shield.

Fin moved closer then and placed his hand on Alex's shoulder. "She'll be fine, Alex. Liv is strong. Resilient. She's gonna get through this. She just needs time and patience and a lot of love."

Alex sniffed and looked at the kind, wise man in front of her. "I hope so, Fin. I pray for that."

"Liv won't let this take her down. I know her. And with your love and the kids' love…that's only gonna make her resolve to get through this even stronger." He lowered his head to make eye contact with her again. "But she needs _you_ to be strong, _too_ , Cabot. She's counting on you right now to be the rock for the kids, for her. You know?"

Alex nodded again. "Yeah…I know."

"I think going to the beach house is a good thing for her," Fin added. "She loves that place."

Alex sniffed again and smiled. "I know she does.

"I always joke around with her and ask her…what is she gonna do if you and her ever end things? Where will she go then without the beach house for vacations?" Fin smiled.

"And what does she say?" Alex wiped her nose with the tissue.

"She always says, 'Bite your tongue, Detective. That day will never come. Alex and I are planning on being geriatric cowgirls together.' That's what she says. And Lord knows I don't have any idea what geriatric cowgirls are and I'm pretty sure I don't want to find out." Fin smirked.

Alex laughed lightly, shoving the Kleenex into her nostrils with her forefingers. "No, you probably don't, my friend." Alex cocked her head to the side and smiled at the older gentlemen. "Thanks, Fin."

"For what, Cabot?"

"For this. Coming to check on me. Seeing if I'm OK. I know Liv would appreciate it, too."

"Any time, Alex. Anything for you two…" he winked and then headed for the door. "Lemme know if you need anything. OK?" He placed his hand on the knob and turned.

"I will, Fin. Thank you, again."

Fin raised a peace sign, opened the door, exited, and closed it behind him.

Alex smiled and folded her arms, hugging them against her body as she thought of Odafin Tutuola and what a wonderful friend and family member he turned out to be in their lives.

* * *

 _Tuesday Evening_

Olivia unzipped her duffel on the bed and parted the opening. She had finally decided to fully unpack after living out of the bag for the past twenty-four hours.

She took out the toothbrush and Crest toothpaste tube from the top and set them aside. Then, she removed a stack of underwear and a couple of bras. She took them out and set them aside, as well. Her one-piece, black bathing suit, a couple of T-shirts and tanks, a cardigan, a couple of pairs of shorts, one pair of pants and an extra pair of jeans. Last but not least, a pair of black flip-flops.

She moved to zip the bag closed but caught sight of something else inside. She looked closer and saw that it looked like some papers. Lifting them, she noticed, right away, that it was the handiwork of her children. She unfolded them and looked at each individually, her eyes and nose beginning to run. Isabel had drawn a huge, red heart with red paint, a purple bunny rabbit next to it, and had written her name in big letters. Off to the side, in the bottom corner, it said _I Love You Mama_ and there was a drawing of the brunette's head, four times bigger than her body, to accompany those words.

Olivia set it aside and looked at the next one. A crayon drawing done by Grace, containing many more words than drawings. It read: _I love Mama because she is so nice. I love her kisses and her smile. I love Mama because she loves Mommy and I love her._ There were hearts and stars of different colors on the border of the paper and a couple of animal stickers placed on there, as well.

Then she unfolded the last one. It was from Theo and she put her right hand over her mouth as she looked at it.

It was a drawing made with colored pencils and it was Olivia and Alex in the middle, holding hands, Theo holding hands with Olivia and the girls on the other end with Alex. It was a chain of their family and the details of the drawing were intensely accurate—from Alex's blue eyes to the way they combed Theo's hair, to the badge and holster on Olivia's hip. Even the twins had their matching jumper uniforms on, their hair in pigtails.

Underneath the drawing was a letter:

 _Dear Mama,_

 _I know you are very sad and it makes me sad too. I want you to be happy and I want to see you smile and I want to make you laugh and you make me laugh. I love you. You are so pretty and I miss your hugs and kisses and I love you and hope you get better._

 _Love,_

 _Theo_

 _P.S. I love pancakes too!_

Olivia's face twisted with emotion then and she turned to sit on the bed, next to the duffel, the paper still in her hand, just as her cellphone rang. She leaned forward and took it from the back pocket of her jeans and saw that it was a FaceTime from Alex. She smiled and slid to answer, wiping beneath her nose with the back of her hand as she did so.

She smiled and held the phone away from her. "Hey, Babes."

It was Alex, sitting on the sofa in the living room, Theo slightly behind her to the right and Isabel slightly behind her on the left, Grace's head was below the blonde's face, their brown-eyed girl sitting in Alex's lap.

"Hey, Mama!" the kids cheered.

"Hey, Babies. How are my beautiful babies?" Olivia's voice was shaky, high-pitched.

"Good, Mama!" Theo chirped.

"Good!" Isabel beamed.

"Hi, Mama!" Grace smiled before her thumb went into her mouth.

"Did you get the pictures we made for you?" Theo cheered, little hands in the air.

"I did, and I loved them, guys. Thank you." Olivia smiled.

"Hey, Liv. How's the house looking?" Alex questioned.

"It looks great, Al. Really does. It's so empty, though. Quiet."

Olivia watched Theo put his arm around Alex and hug her neck, pulling at her to move closer.

"Are you…" Alex's voice was cautious, "…are you OK there, Liv?"

Olivia nodded, feeling her eyes well with tears again. "I'm good, Al. It's so beautiful here. I took a walk on the beach a little while ago and watched the sunset and that was nice. But yesterday, when I got here, I just wanted to take a shower and sleep. So I did. I took a nap, woke up, took a walk." Olivia nodded then, realizing how bad, how depressing the events of her day sounded.

She watched her wife's expression then, seeing the concern.

"But I'm OK, Alex. I promise you. Today I went on a swim, sat in the sun, took another nap..."

"That sounds nice, Liv." Alex began. "But..."

Olivia could see the hesitation on her wife's face and she waited.

"...are you eating? My parents said the fridge is full. The pantry is stocked, too."

Olivia smiled then. "I'm eating, Alex. I am. I had some soup and...just know that I'm eating."

But the brunette knew that not to be true. It was true that she had already had some soup, but in the past day and a half, that had been all she had eaten, along with a few pots of coffee.

Theo put his head on Alex's shoulder then, just looking at Olivia through the lens, their boy obviously tired.

Grace's face came closer to the camera then, those dark eyes studying her own face. She began moving forward and then backward repeatedly, watching herself intently. Isabel caught on and began making faces then, opening her mouth, smiling, fake laughing, neither interested in the conversation, but now only enthralled with their own images on the screen.

Olivia smiled at their interaction.

"Last day for them is Thursday, Liv. We could come out there right after school or we could wait and come out there on Friday morning…" Alex offered.

The kids then turned to Alex and began tugging on her clothing, her face, her shoulders, their bodies bouncing with enthusiasm.

"Thursday! Thursday! Thursday!" they chanted in a cacophony of voices.

"I guess we're coming Thursday, then," Alex smiled.

"I guess so. I can't wait," Olivia said softly.

"Say goodnight to Mama, guys. I want to talk to her for a second." Alex held the phone further away from her.

Olivia was then met with little mouths pressing against the screen, faces getting bigger and then smaller, the excited "goodnights" and "I love yous" from her children heard before they scampered off, out of frame.

Alex's face then. "You're sure you're OK, Liv? I just…I worry about you out there, by yourself…with Katie gone, and—" Alex's voice shook.

"I'm OK, Alex. I promise you. If I wasn't, I would come back right now. Tonight. I am fine and I can't wait for my family to come out here in a couple of days." Olivia smiled. "OK?"

Alex nodded. "OK, Liv. I can't wait, either…I miss you already…"

"I miss you, too, Babe. I love you…"

"I love you, too, Liv…goodnight."

And the call ended, the screen going black. Olivia brought the phone to her lap and felt as her eyes glazed over at the now-dark display.

 _Will I be OK for two more days?_

 _Will too much time and not enough people around be good for me or will it have a negative impact on my mind?_

Olivia wasn't sure, though, and didn't quite know where the next couple of days would take her. But she hoped, deep within her heart, that they would be cathartic and remind her of all of the things she loved most in this world—her wife, her children, and this bump in the road in this little thing called life.

* * *

A/N: I would love to hear what you thought. A "Hot and Heavy" chapter going out, as well. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

 _Wednesday Morning_

Olivia swallowed as her eyes remained fixed on her reflection in front of her. The wind was howling outside, squeezing through the tiny cracks in the frame of the house, squealing as it came through, yet the soothing sound of rain peppered the wooden balcony, just beyond the sliding door, interrupted every now and then by the sudden cracking of lightning, the booming of thunder, the rolling-like rumble like a freight train, until it passed and could no longer be heard.

But then another one would come.

Early summer storms were not uncommon in Southampton, and was welcomed nourishment for the native foliage in the area, but in her current mood it might as well have been a category ten hurricane.

Olivia looked at her own eyes. The same dark brown eyes that her mother had given her. The same eyes that had shown her many atrocities in her line of work throughout the years. The same eyes that had witnessed the birth of her son, of her daughters, of so many life-changing events that had made her a better person, a happier person, a changed person.

The same eyes that had studied her captor for two days. The same eyes that had watched the evilness that was William Lewis come at her with sharp objects, white hot objects, everyday objects and brutalize her, terrorize her, harm her, cause her to wonder if it was the last time she would ever see her own wife and children again.

Wondering if Alex would have to plan her funeral.

Her eyes scanned up to her forehead cut, the deep gash fading away leaving only light red tenderness as it continued to heal. She had taken the small pieces of white tape off of it and had been letting the salt water of the ocean soothe and heal it. The bruise around her left eye was still there, but was now yellowish brown and was only noticeable around the outer corner and along her eye socket bone. Her lip, the cut that was there was still present but was less deep, still scabbed, but healing, as well.

And that was the beginning. Olivia let her eyes move further down now, to the white terrycloth robe she had on—a staple in their master bathroom of the beach house that they both used in a pinch—and eyed the closed lapels.

What was under there was something she hadn't fully let her gaze study yet. Even when she showed Alex a few nights prior, she hadn't looked down to inspect the damage. Even while in the showers she had taken, she hadn't looked down to see what he had done. Even at the hospital while being checked out, she had averted her eyes and let the doctors do what they needed to do and tell her what they needed to tell her, her focus never once going to the torture he had inflicted.

But she was ready now.

She let her fingers slowly untie her belt, her focus remaining on her eyes, feeling the starting of the tremoring of her lower lip.

She knew what was under there. Every burn he had made she had counted—twelve cigarette burns, one key branding—she could still feel the stinging every time a scab pulled. And then there were the cuts—too numerous to count. The thin slashes along her upper chest, the ones on her upper thighs, the few on the tops of her hands. Then there were the bruises—ribs, hips, knees, hands, buttocks—where he would take out his anger. His anger at not having her in the way he wanted. His anger from her being so repulsed every time he touched her, looked at her, spoke to her. His anger when she would try and fight back. His anger from when she said the wrong thing. His anger from when she was so incoherent from the pills and booze that her speech was slurred and her eyes were barely open and she couldn't have obeyed a command to save her life.

But her life had been saved.

It had been spared.

And she had done it. She had saved herself. She had saved herself by beating him to a bloody pulp.

Lightly holding the lapels of the soft garment, she pulled them apart slowly, her gaze moving downward now, the inflictions that she had endured all coming back to her in a rush. Every instance captured in her mind like a cell frame of a strip of movie film.

 _Crumpling stinging, soft skin puckering, the sound, the smell, the pain._

 _The pain._

 _A heavy, booted sole making impact with her hip._

 _Her body jolting and flying._

 _Ribs cracking._

 _Burning, throbbing._

 _Hard metal of the gun making contact with her forehead._

 _Hot, sour breath in her nose, his sweat-sheened face just right there._

Olivia's focus blurred then, the visual evidence in front of her fading into the background.

" _What I wouldn't give to fuck you right now. To have that sexy body. It will be the best you've ever had," he had sneered. "Show you what a real man feels like, can do for you."_

" _Why don't you just fucking do it already? Get it over with." She clenched her jaw and looked up at him as he hovered over the chair she was tied to._

" _Get it over with?" He laughed lightly before moving into her and grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head backward, his face close. "You won't want it to end, sweetheart. You'll be begging for more!" he scoffed before gripping her hair more firmly and shoving her head backward, her neck muscles snapping from the motion._

Olivia gasped and jolted, her eyes focusing back into the present—the three triangle-shaped scabs leading to lined ridges on her side, the round, reddish brown scabs all over her upper torso, the now-healing shallow cuts—and her mouth twisted, her eyes tearing mercilessly, the tears beginning to fall.

She ripped off her robe, letting it fall where it landed, and moved into the bedroom. Stepping to the drawer and jerking it open she removed a pair of black running shorts and a black tank top and then slammed the drawer closed with force. Shaking, her hands fumbling with the waistband, her eyes and nose running mercilessly, she slipped the shorts on hastily and then the tank top and then made her way out of the room and to the bottom floor door that would lead to the slatted walkway that led to the beach.

She exited and closed it behind her and then set off on a slow trot, the slow trot becoming a jog, which led to a run. By the time her feet had hit the sand, she was almost sprinting, arms and legs pushing her not to stop. Her legs and feet struggled through the dense sand-filled beach, her lungs burning, the rain spraying her face, pelts of heavy, cool drops slapping her on the cheeks and forehead.

She ran and ran, her emotions spilling out, her fear, her pain, her anxiety being released.

She ran as far as her lungs, her legs, and her body would take her until she collapsed in the sand, body racking with sobs, rolled into a ball, letting the water fall upon her, cleanse her, somehow hoping it would heal her body and mind as well.

* * *

 _Wednesday Afternoon_

Alex entered through the garage and set her attaché, purse, and two canvas grocery bags on the island, letting out a huge sigh.

"But why can't we go today, Mommy?" Theo pleaded.

Alex looked down at her son, those huge blue eyes looking back at her. "I told you, Baby. You have one more day of school and we're going tomorrow when you get out. Theo, it's all settled."

"But I wanna go now!" he bellowed, stomping his foot, backpack still on. He folded his arms and stared relentlessly at her.

"Theo…" Alex warned.

"Mama wants to see us! I _know_ she does!" His face reddened, his eyes watered, and she saw the hurt in his eyes.

"She does, Baby." Alex knelt down in front of him then and held his hips in her hands.

He mirrored Olivia not only in looks, but mannerisms, as well. When he got upset, Alex could see so much of her wife in that resistant expression.

Alex continued, "But she needs a few days by herself…to kind of have a little vacation without us around."

Theo gasped, his breathing now coming out in short, inhaled panting. "Did that bad man do that stuff to her? Hurt her?" Theo reached forward and placed his hands on Alex's upper arms.

Alex swallowed back the lump then, realizing that their son had put two and two together and had known exactly how his brunette mother had gotten the visible marks she had.

Alex nodded slowly then. "You're right, Theo. He was a very bad man and he did hurt your Mama. But…" she attempted to collect herself then, watching the conflicted fear in his eyes, "…she's safe now and he's…well, he's in jail and can't hurt anybody anymore."

"He went to jail?" Theo questioned.

"Yes, Theo," Alex claimed softly. She looked over at the girls who were patiently waiting, their backpacks on, as well. She smiled at them.

"Is Mama mad at us?" Grace asked, her face full of worry.

"No, Gracie…she can't wait to see us, my girl. She'll be ready tomorrow afternoon when we get there. Waiting with hugs and kisses for all of you."

Theo smiled then. "The best hugs and kisses."

"Yes, Baby. She does give the best hugs and kisses." She motioned for the girls to come to her.

Taking them all in an embrace, she closed her eyes and thought of their little innocent minds and how difficult it must be to wrap their thoughts around what the circumstances were. She pressed a kiss to each of them and then pulled away.

Theo spoke again, "I wanna wear her watch, Mommy. She left it in your room and she has to have it. I wanna wear it tomorrow and I can take it to her when we go."

"Theo…" Alex began, but stopped herself. She smiled and nodded. "I think she would like that, Baby. Wear it tomorrow and take it to her."

"And her gun so she can protect us?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Wh—Theo? How do you know where her gun is?"

Alex's heart began racing now. They had always been very careful with her wife's service weapon but now she wasn't so sure that their son didn't know where it was.

"I know she keeps it in your room, too. In the drawer next to her side."

 _Was it there? Did Olivia take it?_

"Your Mama has it with her. She took it with her, Theo," Alex proclaimed but wasn't so sure of this fact. "That's your Mama's and you know it's hands off of that _always_ , right?"

Theo nodded.

"Never touch it… _any_ of you…"

"No, we don't tuts, Mommy," Grace offered.

"Guns are for Mama and getting da bad guys!" Isabel added.

"You're right, Baby. For getting the bad guys." She stood then and began guiding them down the hallway. "Backpacks off, homework down here, and dinner will be ready soon. OK?"

"OK, Mommy!" they all chirped before racing down the hallway and up the stairs.

Alex stared at the spot they were last seen then and began biting the inside of her lower lip. She would have to make sure Olivia's pistol was put somewhere else, if it was in the usual location of the lock box in her bedside table. She would have to make sure that was done as soon as possible.

* * *

Olivia had opened every single cupboard in the kitchen, searching for the bag of ground coffee she was sure had been in the cabinet above the sink. All cabinets opened now, she placed her hands on her hips and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh.

The storm had passed and the sun was now shining and Olivia had gotten through her mini breakdown from earlier. Though not exactly at peace with anything at all, she had at least gotten through yet another flashback, another reminder, another memory of what she had gone through.

And now, she needed a cup of coffee.

Her eyes scanned the open cabinets again, searching them frantically, the frustration building as she did so.

She felt her hands begin tremoring, traveling to her arms, her legs becoming weak beneath her. Dr. Lindstrom had given her a prescription for anti-anxiety medication but she didn't want to take it. He had also given her something to help her sleep, but with the reminder of what she had been plied with during her ordeal, she didn't want to take any drugs at all. She wanted to get through this on her own, with her family, with being surrounded by love and kindness.

Her breathing came out in quick bursts then as she remembered.

 _Hands gripping her breasts, the smell of cigarettes against her cheek, his strong thighs in between her own. His mouth on her breast through her shirt._

She shuddered then and took a deep breath before looking back at the counter where she had already set out a mug. She stepped closer and looked at it carefully. It was a photo mug of the Benson-Cabots—a gift to the elder Cabots just that Christmas—and she felt her face contort with emotion then.

Her family.

Cathy and Bill Cabot.

Her beautiful girls.

Her son.

Her wife.

Then, as if by magic or summoning, she eyed further back on the counter and saw the pound bag of Starbucks house blend—the one she had been looking for—and smiled weakly.

This was what was going to get her through this. Her family. She had everything to live for and wanted nothing more than to get through this and not have what happened to her scar her permanently. She wanted to awaken every day with the knowledge of her perfect life and know that these beings in her presence, these creatures that loved her so deeply, so purely, so absolutely, would be there for her always.

And that was all she needed.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

 _Thursday Morning_

How many times had they sat out here, on these exact element-weathered wooden Adirondack chairs—before marriage, while dating, while engaged, married with no kids, married with kids—and just sat, reveling in the beauty around them, just happy to be in a place that was so calming, so content, so physically and mentally soothing?

The glorious times were too numerous to count. So many amazing memories encapsulated within the space of a couple of acres. Her wife, her children, her family.

With the demand from both of their careers, the beach house had always been a place for solace, for comfort, to find themselves again. She and her wife playing, making love, sharing memories. A way to spend time with each other and make the most of this little precious time they had on Earth. To find themselves again amidst the chaos of daily life.

And this trip for Olivia was no exception.

Olivia lifted the cornflower blue mug to her lips just as a seagull flew by, narrowly missing the wooden railing of the balcony overlooking the mid-thigh height ocean waves in front of her, before squawking and flying towards the sandy shore.

An image flashed into her mind then. A positive one. A memorable one. A life-changing one. And Olivia smiled.

Tiny caramel body in her arms, looking up at her. Amazingly huge, blue eyes blinking slowly, little wrinkled brow furrowed. The first time they placed him in her arms. Their little baby boy.

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she thought of the immense happiness, joy and pride she had felt at that moment, knowing he was here, that he had entered this world and was about to be both she and Alex's little bundle of pride and joy.

It had been one of the happiest days of her life thus far and she remembered every detail. The feel of the soft woven texture of the swaddling they had placed him into, the light scent of his innocence as he lay wrapped up in her arms, his tiny gurgles and squeaks that signaled the life she had just created and given birth to, Alex smiling down at her with emotional eyes, the immense exhaustion taking over her body, the relief of his birth going as planned.

Olivia wiped a stray tear away and realized she was still smiling. She laughed lightly and then another image popped into her head.

Alex. Eight-and-a-half months pregnant. Irritable. Bloated. Sweaty. Annoyed. Curt. So ready to give birth that the brunette couldn't help but revel in a side of her wife that wasn't easily extracted. An out-of-control, weepy, bitchy side that not many got to see. The cool façade she normally portrayed had been pushed to the side and the comfort level that her blonde wife displayed with Olivia was a welcome sight to see and, often times, quite a hilarious spectacle.

Then, there were the girls.

One of many memories she had was of Alex holding each like a football at both of her sides, their little rosy-hued girls suckling and drinking away, little pink mouths moving, as the blonde's eyes slowly closed, her mouth parted, her wife completely exhausted and incredibly drugged from the entire birthing process.

One of many memories of the blonde and their twin girls.

It hadn't been easy for Alex—pregnancy, labor—and there had been some complications—an unexpected C-section—but she had gotten through it and thrived as a mother, thrived as a wife, thrived as Olivia's best friend and confidant.

Alex.

When she thought of her wife, a hypnotic image immediately entered her mind—smooth porcelain skin, deep, mesmerizing blue eyes, full, pink-hued mouth. And that hair. When she was reminded of her hair, the strangest thing happened. Olivia could actually feel it on her fingertips. The silkiness, the texture, and could smell its Heavenly aroma as well.

Her wife's kindness exuded in everything she did. Whether it was representing a victim in the courtroom or cooking dinner for the family, or teaching the kids how to make a bed, the blonde just simply cared. And Olivia knew it. Had always known it. When she looked into her eyes she saw the woman whom she was meant to be with forever. Not just until the children went to college. Not just until they both retired. Not just until they each drew their last breath.

Forever.

And Olivia was struck by this very fact, realizing that this was what it was all about. The good things. The simple things. The things that lasted longer than forty-eight hours of her life. The things that brought her joy and soothed her and calmed her in times like these.

She set her mug on the low table to her left and brought both hands to her face and wiped her eyes, laughing lightly as she realized, for the millionth time in almost a week, that she needed her family, needed her wife, and that their reunion today would mean so much more than it ever had in her healing.

She knew this much was true.

* * *

 _Thursday Afternoon_

Alex eyed Theo in the backseat as they drove. His little face was red, eyes tearing, their son almost inconsolable. She shifted her eyes to their daughters—Grace's thumb in her mouth, Isabel's blue eyes wide with anxiety.

"But I have to get it!" Theo screamed, his face contorting with grief. "We have to go back, Mommy! Pleeeeease!" His little body jerked then and he slumped further down in his seat, the seatbelt digging in to his neck as he did so.

Alex moved her eyes back to the road. At forty-five minutes into their trip, turning around and fetching the forgotten item was out of the question, especially in Manhattan rush hour traffic.

"I wanna get her watch!" he whined.

"Theo, we're almost there. I need you to stop this right now."

She could hear his breathing then—frantic, sporadic gasps, tiny whimpers of sadness—and she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're a mean Mommy!" he yelled.

"Theo! Stop it! Stop it right this minute!" she retorted back with equal vigor, feeling frustration branch out from her heart through her arms and to her hands, her fingers gripping the steering wheel firmly.

Then, silence.

She looked back into the rearview mirror at the three kids back there. All were silent, their awed expressions frozen. And she immediately regretted her raised tone.

Raising their voice with the children was never something she or her wife wanted to do. It had been discussed many times in the past five years, that they wouldn't become so angry with one of them that they felt the need to yell or scream. But she had just done it. And she was sorry that she did.

She took another deep breath and looked back at the road in front of her.

"Theo…I'm sorry I yelled. But, Baby…" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "…we can't go back. It will take too long and your Mama is waiting for us."

Tiny sniffs then, their boy beginning to calm down.

"I'm hungry," Isabel offered from the back seat. "When are we gonna eat?"

Alex smiled then. "We'll eat when we get there, Izzie. We'll make something, if your Mama hasn't already, when we get there. OK?"

"OK, Mommy," she agreed.

"Theo?" Alex questioned.

No answer.

She looked back at him in the mirror. "Theo?"

His scowl was spread across his face as his eyes pierced into her own.

"Remember what Mama always says about time at the beach house?"

She watched as a smile began to creep along the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah…she says time doesn't exist when we're there." His smile broadened then.

Alex nodded. "Yep. That's what she says. Time stops, time doesn't matter when we're there. So she doesn't need her watch. Right?"

Theo shook his head then.

"Right, girls?" She raised her eyebrows and looked at them in the reflection.

"Right, Mommy! They agreed.

"OK, so let's get there and get ready to have fun with your Mama, OK?" She looked back at the road. "Everybody in and ready to be lazy beach bums?"

"We're in!" they beamed.

And Alex was satisfied with that enthusiasm. A minor hiccup had passed. She knew their children's emotions were running high from all of the chaos of recent events. Their lives had been shaken up, their routines disassembled. But hopefully, with the reunion at the beach house with Olivia, things would begin to fall back into place.

* * *

Olivia stood at the kitchen sink, poised with the scouring sponge in her hand, yellow rubber gloves on, powdery cleanser spread all over the aluminum of the basin. She had the screen door that led to the balcony off of the kitchen open and could feel the warm breeze as it intermittently entered, giving the space a fresh, balmy feel.

She had taken a swim and showered and had put clean sheets on the beds downstairs and had even done her hair—blow-dried and straightened her new bob—and was ready, save for a few last minute tasks.

She was excited to see her family, to be with them and love them and have them love her back and had made a conscious effort to revel in the positivity that she knew they would bring. She knew that there would be moments—flashes and remembrances—of what had happened to her but she would deal with them when the time came and would use her wife and children to ease the pain of those memories.

Olivia knew she had a long way to go—could feel it in her soul, in her being—but she already felt the beginning of the healing process and knew that, when she finally divulged the privileged information and the details of her experience with William Lewis to her wife, a certain heaviness would lift even more and she would be content in the fact that she had recollected and accounted her trauma and shared it with her wife over and above all other meaningless persons.

She turned the faucet on and began rinsing the yellow and green sponge beneath the water, watching as the suds swam down the drain, and then she heard a noise—a thud? A slam? Something dropping?

She furrowed her brow and turned the water off, listening more carefully now, not hearing anything more.

Her family was still on the road and she didn't expect them for another hour or so, so she knew it couldn't be them. Carefully peeling the gloves off, she set them off to the side and slowly crept to the butler's pantry, where she currently had her pistol.

She entered the pantry and heard it again. A tick? A pop? Reaching upward to the top of the extra storage pantry she removed her gun and brought it down, placing it against her thigh, both hands surrounding the grip as she crept out into the kitchen, now on high alert.

Again. The noise again.

Coming from the balcony?

She inched her way closer and stepped to the screen, looking intently at her surroundings.

On the wooden floor of the balcony was a fallen seed brick that had been hanging on an overlying post, now in a heap, seeds and nuts scattered everywhere. And a few birds were now pecking at it.

She closed her eyes and smiled, happy to have found the reason, the answer to the alarming noise. She went to place the pistol in her holster, as was her usual routine, but remembered she was only wearing a pair of cropped khaki pants and a Chambray button down and opted to set her weapon on the kitchen table instead.

She watched as five birds had an orgy feast, enjoying the now fallen treats, and smiled again.

Instances like these, the ones that recently sent her heart racing and her body into hyper-alert stiffness needed to be controlled. She knew this. With what she had been through, it was understandable. She knew this. And all she could do was talk herself out of it and know that she was now safe. Now in a place and in a world that she could relax once again and let the love that was about to be envelop her entire being and soul.

And so, she took her service weapon from the table and stepped back into the pantry to return it to where it had been, ready to greet her family and spend time with them, and enjoy the peace and serenity that they always managed to give her.

* * *

Alex's eyes glazed over as she drove, an image of her wife standing in front of her, exposed and vulnerable came into her mind as she began the last leg of their journey on the way to the beach house.

She felt the prick of tears begin and she remembered a conversation that she had had just the previous day with one of her colleagues.

 _"Your wife is a hero, Mrs. Benson-Cabot. She got that guy and she saved a lot of women."_

 _Alex had only smiled and uttered, "She is, Terry. I know that."_

Alex's mind then went to her wife's body again, only imagining the beating, the burns, the sadism she had experienced. The whips, the hits, the punches, the hot objects being virtually injected into her.

And she began to cry.

 _"Your wife is a hero for the entire city," Terry had continued. "She is a hero for all of us women."_

 _Alex smiled, trying not to get overly emotional at work. "She's my hero, too," Alex whispered._

 _"Well, you go have that vacation and take care of her and those little babies of yours and have a great time. Everything is taken care of here for as long as you need." Terry smiled._

 _"Thanks, Terry. It means a lot. I appreciate it."_

And that had been that.

Support at work, at the law high school. Support from Liz Donnelly and Lena at her other job. And she was set.

She sniffed then, returning to the present, and reached into the cup holder and lifted her cell phone.

"Call Liv."

The phone began dialing and she peeked at her children in the backseat once more—all subdued, all exhausted after a day of school and the entire past week.

"Hey, Al."

Her wife's voice sounded like music and she smiled. "We're almost there, Babe. Just about to roll into the driveway."

"I'm here, Al. I'm here waiting…see you in a few…"

"OK…" Alex disconnected the call and placed it on the passenger seat next her and wiped the stray tear that had begun down her right cheek.

She was about to see her wife. The kids were about to be surrounded by a blanket of love again.

And Alex couldn't wait.

* * *

Olivia stood in the doorway of the bottom floor, arms folded, and she smiled as she watched the Rover pull into its usual parking spot on the graveled drive.

Two back doors opened and then the driver's side, the kids running from the vehicle immediately.

Olivia squatted and opened her arms as her three children ran into her body and she embraced them fully, holding them tightly, kissing their faces, their hair, their little necks.

A round of "Mama's" was heard from all of them, their tiny voices jubilant and high, so happy to see her. She held them for a few moments before breaking the hold and standing.

"Go on inside, guys," Alex instructed. "And take your bags, OK?"

Olivia watched as they all retrieved their small backpacks, slammed the doors, and then all ran inside the house, her gaze watching as they went.

Then, she turned back to her wife. Alex was still in her work clothing—a beige pencil skirt, matching heels, and a sleeveless, cream silk shell.

Olivia felt her emotions come on hard then and she held her arms out, Alex moving toward her without hesitation. She moved into her arms and Olivia held her tightly, arms wrapped around her, and just enjoyed the feeling of her wife's body against her.

They stood like that, swaying slightly, just appreciating their reunion, the feel of each other, and the knowledge that they were all now together, ready to continue the healing with love, patience, and an undying emotion that had never left, had never faltered, and would get them back on track in living the lives that they had made together and would continue to make together for as long as the end of time would take them.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review. It means so much.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

 _Six Days Post Return_

 _Thursday Evening_

They had made dinner and were sitting around the table, just having eaten a meal of grilled chicken, rice pilaf, and a leafy green salad. The candle light was flickering amongst the tiny jubilant faces and there had been laughter and smiles and talk of the kids' lives at school and all had seemed right.

But Alex could see the sadness, the unspoken words, behind her wife's eyes, behind that gleaming smile and she knew that Olivia was trying to keep up appearances for the sake of everyone.

Alex caught eyes with her wife and she smiled.

Olivia smiled back and then looked back at the children. "I got you all something," Olivia began. "I was in town and saw some things and knew you three would just love them."

"You got us a present?" Theo beamed, clapping his little hands together. His expression changed then and he added, "But it isn't even Christmas."

"It doesn't have to be Christmas for me to get you gifts, my boy." She reached for her water glass and lifted it, taking a sip.

"Yea! Presents!" Isabel cheered.

Olivia smiled again. "Yes, baby. Presents!" Olivia stood then. "Come on. I have them in the TV room downstairs. Let's go get them!" Olivia's voice was chipper, enthusiastic.

"Yea!" the kids shouted and then darted from the dining room and began towards the staircase that led downstairs.

Alex stood, as well, moving to take a couple of plates from the table.

"Leave those, Al. Come on downstairs and let's watch the kids open them."

"Liv…" Alex started, placing the plates back on the table.

"Come on, Babe." Olivia smiled, holding her hand out.

Alex took it and followed her wife, out of the room and towards the stairs. "Liv…" Alex tried again.

"Alex…" Olivia stopped and turned.

"Is this all too much? Is this—?"

Olivia's finger against her lips then and Alex fought the urge to pucker, to kiss her finger, as she had done innumerous times before.

"It's fine, Al. Let's just go see, OK?" Olivia raised her eyebrows—the smile there, but the sadness still present. "Please… _please_ , let's just…please make this normal, Babe. _Please_ …"

Normal. OK. Her wife wanted things to appear normal and so she put on a brave face and decided to do exactly what Olivia wanted.

Alex nodded then and proceeded to follow her wife down the steps, hand in hand.

They entered the study and the kids were already on their presents, wrapped with wrapping paper and bows and everything.

"OK, guys. Open them!" Olivia smiled.

The kids tore into their gifts, all at the same time.

Theo was given a new Connect Four™ game, Isabel a Cinderella DVD and a tiara and little clear, plastic shoes, and Grace a book on insects, a butterfly net and a small insect viewing box with a magnifier on top.

They all ran into Olivia, now seated on the sofa, and hugged her tightly.

"You like them?" she smiled, kissing them repeatedly all over their faces.

"I love it," Theo said sweetly.

"It's da best!" Isabel agreed.

"I love da bugs!" Grace offered, her little voice high with excitement.

"I'm glad," Olivia declared shakily. "You all can play with your new toys until bath time, OK?" Olivia looked at Alex and smiled. "And then tomorrow we can go have fun at the beach. You can even bury your Mommy and me. How does that sound?"

"Yea!" they all agreed and then began playing with their new presents.

Alex watched her wife as she watched the kids. The brunette's eyes were teary, her wife happy to give them so much joy.

"And I got something for you, Al," Olivia looked at her then and then reached to her left and produced a small, rectangular-shaped box, wrapped in white paper and holding a blue bow. "I saw this and wanted to give it to you, Babe."

Alex's mouth dropped open, her mouth moving but not saying anything.

"Open it, Al."

Alex took the proffered box and then gently began to unwrap it. Coming to the box, she lifted the top to reveal a silver charm bracelet that held four charms, each heart-shaped, with all of their names on them—Isabel, Grace, Theo, Olivia.

"Oh, Liv…it's…" Alex felt her emotions coming then, "…it's beautiful," she swallowed, feeling the tears come now, her emotions taking over. "But you didn't—"

"Alex. I wanted to give it to you. I saw it and wanted to have it made for you, Babe. Please don't think…"

Gifts. Giving gifts after such an ordeal. Was her wife trying to make amends by buying things? "Olivia…"

"Alex…just please take it. I just wanted to show you all how much I love you and have missed you and make you happy, after I've been so…" Olivia's brown eyes began tearing now.

"OK, Liv, but…"

"But nothing, Al. We'll talk. I promise. Later…OK?"

Alex nodded and held her wrist out as Olivia unclasped it and placed it on, the sparkly sterling silver catching the light and enhancing the beauty of the jewelry. "It's beautiful." She looked into her wife's eyes. "I love it." Alex smiled.

Olivia leaned in then, her face close, those brown eyes looking back and forth between her own. She then let her lips press gently to her own and Alex's eyes closed, savoring the feel of her wife's mouth on her own. Needing that closeness from the woman she loved so deeply.

The kiss was quick, yet spoke volumes.

Olivia was here. They were all together. They were in a place that had always been of comfort, of happy times, and the blonde knew that it was a place they all needed to be at the moment. Together.

* * *

Olivia pulled away from kissing Grace's cheek and smiled. They had just read two books to all of them and now watched as their three, sleeping forms were comfortable, content with the fact that their family was now all together.

She carefully stood and then moved to turn the lamp off, their three children sleeping together on the queen-sized bed of the guest room—Jonathan's old room.

She looked at Alex, who had just kissed Theo's forehead and they had a moment of understanding before they both moved to the doorway and the blonde moved ahead, letting Olivia close the door and leave it open a crack.

Alex walked ahead of her then, towards the master bedroom, and Olivia followed, knowing exactly what she wanted to do this evening.

They entered and Olivia left the door open, moving to place the monitors—which they still had for their children—on the bedside table.

Olivia looked at her wife then, Alex's expression hesitant, cautious.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Alex proclaimed.

"Wait," Olivia said, holding her hand out. "I want…I want to talk to you…"

Alex's eyes were alert, in tune to what the brunette was saying.

Olivia then moved to the sliding door of their bedroom and opened it, the sound of the ocean waves now entering the space, and then looked back. "Let's go out here and leave the screen open…we can still hear the kids…I want…" Olivia swallowed then, fighting the lump in her throat, "…I want to tell you, Al…I want to tell you everything."

Alex only nodded and followed her onto the balcony. Olivia seated herself in one of the Adirondack chairs and watched as her wife sat on the one adjacent to her.

Olivia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, listening to low tide as it ebbed and flowed against the shoreline. "I talked to you…on the phone…and then I hung up." Olivia opened her eyes then and looked ahead at the darkness, the moon high in the sky, lighting the night like a search light, the glimmering casting on the water like a painting.

"Yeah…" Alex agreed. "You did. Right before you went in."

Olivia continued to look straight ahead. "I went inside and then began to unpack the groceries and I heard the TV in Mrs. P's room…" Olivia felt the fear then, the impact of the moment when he had appeared. "Then I heard a noise…and I…I stopped and moved toward the noise…"

No sound from her wife, but she didn't want to look at her. Didn't want to see the trepidation in those blue eyes. She knew it was there, though, without even looking.

"And then he appeared. He had a gun pointed at me and I knew, instantly that something was wrong, was about to happen…"

She heard Alex take in a deep breath beside her and she couldn't help but turn her head. And what she saw was what she expected to see—Alex's eyes were filled with tears.

Olivia looked back at the vacant darkness. "He…uh…he had a gun and grabbed my own and…"

* * *

Alex watched as her wife recounted her experience, the incredibly terrible travesty that she had endured. She watched the brunette tell her about the beatings, of the torment, of the trauma she had endured. Of how she had gotten the cleaning lady and her daughter out of the house safely. How she had wrestled in her mind with just shooting him or not. And she could only be there and accept and listen as her wife recounted every last detail of what William Lewis had done to her.

"And I thought he was...he was going to…he just kept taunting me..." Olivia continued, "…and, instead of shooting him...I grabbed the metal bar that I had gotten loose from the bed and…and…I…" Olivia's face contorted then, twisting with pure angst and emotion, "…I just kept hitting him and hitting him…after what he had put me through, after all he had made me think was going to happen…I thought he was going to kill me and…"

She watched her wife struggle then, sobbing, her face in her hands, and she wanted so badly to move into her, hold her, console her. But she just listened to what her wife was divulging.

"I beat him, Alex. I beat him until I thought he was dead. And I didn't care at all if he was!" she sobbed. "I wanted that bastard dead for how he made me feel, what he made me think was going to happen and how I thought he was going to kill me and leave you and the kids without me!"

Alex reached out then and placed her hand on her wife's shoulder, feeling the firmness, the trembling, her wife letting go of all of the emotions she had kept inside for so long.

Olivia grabbed her hand then and held it firmly before looking over at her with morose eyes. Alex stood then and moved into her wife, kneeling in front of her and holding her firmly, trying to let her know that she wasn't in this alone.

They held each other for a long time, the brunette whimpering against her, Alex feeling her tears on her shoulder, until the blonde heard Olivia take a deep breath and loosen her hold.

Alex pulled away then and looked up at her wife. And she had to ask the question. The one she had been wondering for almost a week. And so she did.

She waited, watching as Olivia's demeanor calmed somewhat.

"Did he…did he…?" Alex questioned.

Olivia shook her head. "No. He didn't. But…he had…he…um..."

Alex nodded, looking the brunette's face over. "He had an erection…"

Olivia nodded quickly, her face contorting with grief. "He did...and I just kept wondering. He kept threatening, he kept telling me he would...but he never did it…kept saying how good it would be…how much he wanted to…but…he never did…"

Alex held her again, pressing her body to her wife's, feeling her shaking beneath her, and she felt her own tears stream down her cheeks.

After a few moments, Olivia let out a shaky breath. "He didn't and I'm so glad, Al…I don't think…I don't think I could've handled that. I think I'd be in worse shape if he…"

Olivia began sobbing against her then and they continued to hold each other.

"I'm so sorry, Liv…" Alex said softly against her. "I wish I had been the one—"

"No!" Olivia blurted before pulling away. "No…" much softer then, "… _never_ …never, Al…" Those chocolate orbs looked back and forth between her own. "I would never have wished what he did to me on anyone and I'm just…I'm just glad that he's…" Olivia sniffed and swallowed then, "…in lock up and can't hurt anyone…"

Alex nodded, seeing the pleading expression in her wife's face.

"I'm exhausted, Al…I'm so tired…" Olivia whispered softly.

"I know you are…"

"I'm gonna go to sleep. If that's OK?" Olivia tried a smile.

"Of course, Babe…"

And that's just what they did.

They stood and entered the bedroom, closing the sliding door behind them, and Olivia slipped onto the bed, fully clothed, and Alex moved to cover her with the sheet and comforter. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her wife's temple before standing erect and watching her.

Olivia was already out. Exhausted from the recounting of her ordeal. Exhausted from the past week. Exhausted and finally in a place that would possibly give her comfort.

Her whole, supportive family surrounding her.

And Alex was fine with that.

* * *

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	17. Chapter Seventeen

_Chapter Seventeen_

 _Friday Morning_

Olivia squinted and focused on a small dinghy off in the distance—approximately half a mile away. The fisherman was raising his net and pulling it onto the wooden boat, hefting his caught treasures from the early morning abundance.

It was seven in the morning and the brunette had slept well. Better, in fact, than she had in the past year, and she attributed it to her complete candor on the previous evening. She let the toes of her left foot dig in the sand as her other lay outstretched in front of her on the beach lounger, relishing in the morning air, the morning coffee in her hand, and the morning after expelling so much emotion to her wife.

She had finally let Alex in, let her know of her experiences minute by minute, second by second. And she felt somehow freer, more at ease. Like the door that was opened was for both of them and they had entered it without hesitation.

Her wife had been completely, undeniably there for her, just as she had always been. Even while becoming best friends so early on, while growing closer and beginning to date, sharing such intimate details of each other's lives, Alex had always said she would always be there to listen, to lend a shoulder, to just be a comforting ear, and she had never once let Olivia down.

And for that the brunette detective was eternally grateful and would always be.

Olivia brought her steaming mug to her lips and sipped while tousling her still-damp, freshly-washed locks, letting her fingernails lightly scratch along her scalp, and closing her eyes.

It was Friday and the elder Cabots were to return later that evening—around eight or so—from their small vacation that Olivia was sure was taken for her benefit and to give her time to be alone at the beach house to collect her thoughts, gather her bearings, reconnect with her soul and entire being.

And she had known that, for the most part. There was still a long way to go. She was aware of this fact. She knew, now more than ever, that she needed therapy because it seemed that her forty-eight-hour experience had recently been unsettling the dust from previously-experienced traumatic events from her life as well.

 _Sealview Correctional Facility._

 _Brady Harrison._

 _Getting attacked in the warehouse with Elliot._

 _Gitano._

 _Eric Plummer._

Olivia furrowed her brow and continued to eye the small boat, watching as it began to head south along the shoreline, most likely returning to a usual location and to sell to the local restaurants and markets in the area.

All of those experiences she had been through, including dealing with an alcoholic, verbally abusive mother for most of her life, had shaped her into the person she was today. They had made her hard and strong and untrusting, true. But they had also made her determined and unyielding and unrelenting when it came to justice and helping the victims that she helped day in and day out.

The bad was interspersed with the good.

No.

Not just the good.

The _amazing_.

She could still remember the first time she and Alex had kissed. The sensations that had been evoked. Then there was the first time they had _officially_ kissed after their first date. And it had been just as, if not more, amazing than before. Olivia also remembered the first time they made love. She smiled as she remembered how they had both been so ready to explore each other, to pleasure each other, to love and worship each other. Of how they had both already been dreaming of the possibility, of the instance, of the happening of both of them finally showing each other how the other was so wanted and desired.

Then there had been their reunion.

When Alex had come back from W.P.P., and then had taken three years to collect and find herself again, and then had come back into the detective's life, Olivia had been hesitant, even more than slightly resistant. But Alex had held on, determined to make Olivia hers. Determined to have a life with her. Determined to love her and for the brunette to love her back.

And that's exactly what had happened.

Their brief engagement. Their wedding. Their children. Their life together.

It was all perfection and when Olivia thought of it, thought of all of the blessings that had been placed in front of her, she couldn't help but get emotional. It had been more than she ever could have asked for.

A stable marriage. A best friend to tell everything from her favorite chick flick to her deepest darkest secrets to. All of it.

A lover that blew the roof off of anything she had ever experienced in her sexual past. Beautiful children that all held a part of each of them—brains, beauty, sense of humor, diligence and kindness—and Olivia knew that they were surrounded by she and Alex's love, their intellect, and all of the teachings they had to offer every day.

That was what she had.

She had it all and she knew that. Had known it all along.

And she knew that was what she needed now more than ever.

She took one last sip of coffee and swung her right leg over and placed her foot onto the sand and stood, stretching once, arms in the air, before turning and heading toward the wood-slatted dock that would lead her back to the house and back to her family.

* * *

 _Friday Afternoon_

"Mama! Mommy!" Theo shouted, running towards them, little navy and white board shorts on. "Come play with us in the sand!"

Alex watched her wife smile next to her on the beach lounger and then watched as the brunette took a small, but visible, breath.

"Come on, Mama!" Theo was tugging at Olivia's black T-shirt then, his other hand pulling on her forearm.

"OK, OK, my boy. First let's get some more sunblock on you and your sisters. OK?"

Theo nodded once firmly, his little toothless smile endearing and irresistible. He turned his head and called over his shoulder, "Gracie! Izzie! Come let Mama put the sunblock on!"

The twins dropped their shovels and trowels and buckets and ran up to their mothers, who were now inwardly facing each other on their beach loungers that were underneath the shade of the blue and white striped tent-like cabana awning above them.

Grace backed herself into Alex's parted knees and the blonde began rubbing a thick, white cream onto her shoulders, their kids already knowing the routine. She rubbed it along her arms, her back, her belly and legs, and then finished off with her face, watching as that porcelain, sun-kissed complexion scrunched as she did so.

Alex couldn't help but grin, for the millionth time, at the same, exact reaction that their brown-eyed girl always gave in that situation.

Then it was on to Isabel, who was now moving into Alex to take her turn, as well.

"Mama?" Theo questioned, lifting his arms in the air.

"Yes, Baby?" Olivia continued rubbing the thick lotion into his chest, along his stomach and sides.

Theo turned around then, arms still up. "Are you gonna come in the water with us?"

"Of course I will, Theo. We'll go after you three bury your Mommy and me in the sand and we get good and hot and ready to jump in. OK?" Olivia smiled and raised her eyebrows.

"Then why do you have all your clothes on?" Theo eyed her ensemble then—an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of short, dark gray twill shorts.

Alex watched as her wife looked down, as well, and then back at their son.

"I have my bathing suit on under here, my boy. Mama's ready. Don't worry." Olivia winked and tried a smile. "See the ties peeking out from the back of my neck?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I see," Theo agreed, smiling.

Alex knew her wife's hesitancy, and understood it, as well. But Olivia had always been the one to be freer with her body and with her beach attire than the blonde. Had always had more of a self-confidence in a bikini or bathing suit than she ever did. And their son was taking notice.

"Why don't you three go start digging two big holes for us…" Alex looked at Olivia, raising her eyebrows and smirking, "or one _big_ one?"

"Yea!" Theo cheered. "One big one for both of you!" he shouted before running off about ten feet away, just ten feet more to go to the shoreline.

The twins followed and all three began their excavation.

Alex heard her wife take a long, deep breath then and let it out slowly. The blonde turned to find Olivia's expression straight, her eyes fixed on the kids.

"I don't want them to see, Al." Olivia's voice was matter-of-fact. "I really don't." Olivia turned and looked at her then. "I don't know what to say to explain it to them." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she shook her head, "They're so young."

Alex reached her right hand out to her wife and Olivia took it, those brown eyes still hurting, still trying to process how to get back to normal, everyday life, how to show her body to the children and not have them be frightened or overly inquisitive.

"Theo knows." Alex watched her wife's face then, carefully for signs of emotion.

"How?" Olivia rasped before clearing her throat.

"He just figured it out, Liv. He knows the _bad man_ did that to you. So, Theo knows how you got your _ouchies,_ as he put it." Alex watched her wife again.

A slight smile lifted the left side of her wife's mouth then. "Ouchies. He's so cute." Olivia took another deep breath and let it out. "It's been a week, Al. They look better. I've been swimming so the salt water and sun have been helping to heal them." Olivia looked at her then.

Alex nodded slowly. "That's good, Liv."

"So he knows…and the girls?"

"They were there, Liv. They have a sense."

Olivia nodded slowly, her eyes back on the children digging and giggling as they did so. The brunette smiled. "OK…" she said softly. She slowly stood then and began to unbutton and unzip her shorts, those morose, chocolate eyes now on her own.

"You can do this, Liv," Alex declared softly.

"With you…I can, Al…" Olivia's eyes began filling with tears then as she slid the shorts downward and then stepped out of them.

The sores along her upper and inner thighs were still there, smaller than a week prior, but still there. The brunette lifted the t-shirt over her head and then let it fall to the lounger before looking back at Alex.

Alex looked at the top of the one-piece bathing suit—a strapless with a neck tie attached and holding it up—and only noticed a small exposing of the edges of a scab where he had taken a lit cigarette to just above her left nipple. It was barely noticeable and, as her wife had mentioned, it was healing nicely.

Alex looked back up at her wife and tried a smile. She then stood and slithered her arms around her, looking at her hesitant expression.

"It looks good, Liv. And I wouldn't just say that. You know me." Alex smiled.

"And my face?" Olivia's eyes began filling with more tears.

Alex leaned in closer and the two embraced.

"That's almost gone, Babe…" Alex closed her eyes and the two held each other. Alex could feel her wife's firm hold on her, her wife's need for comfort and affirmation felt in that simple embrace. "I can barely see the bruise…the cuts are almost gone…"

She felt Olivia nod against her shoulder and hold her tighter.

Alex smiled, inhaling her wife's scent, feeling the closeness, relishing in her own bit of comfort from this simple act of holding one another.

"I'm ready…" Olivia whispered, pulling away.

Alex looked her wife's face over, seeing the determination, the intensity in her eyes. She nodded again. "OK, Liv. I'm here."

They took each other's hand and then walked slowly toward their children who were busily digging.

The kids looked up and smiled, happy to see their mothers together. Happy to be reconnected to each other again.

Scars and scabs and bruises, or no scars and scabs and bruises. It all didn't matter. What mattered was the here and now. Everything else could be explained, could be expressed to the children's young minds in the way that they needed it to be.

And they were in this, and would do it all, together.

* * *

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	18. Chapter Eighteen

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

 _Friday Evening_

 _Seven Days Post Return_

Olivia looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a classic long-sleeved, half-placket, charcoal gray silk blouse and a pair of white linen pants, dark gray heels on to match.

She leaned closer to inspect her face better in the mirror and then tried a slight smile, wondering if it looked real, if it looked forced, if it looked pre-planned.

Her face softened when she thought of Alex, just a few moments prior, watching as she put her make-up on, the blonde sitting and leaning back casually at the foot of the bed, telling her how beautiful she was and how she was still the most beautiful woman in the world and how lucky she was to have her.

Olivia never doubted her wife's love. Never wondered if she was beautiful enough, if she was intelligent enough, if she was funny enough. She never once doubted it because Alex had always been so verbal with her, all these years, telling her how appreciated she was and how she couldn't live without her.

Olivia never doubted her wife's commitment and undying honor to her and, now, the children. It was in everything she did and since this ordeal had happened the brunette knew that her wife had stepped up to the plate in more ways than one.

Alex was a wonderful wife, an amazing mother, and a selfless best friend and lover.

And had always been.

Olivia took a deep breath and looked her make-up over—smoky eyes, mascara accentuating her almond-shaped orbs, lips lined and colored and glossed. She ran her hands over her sleek bob and then took a step back and straightened her blouse that was tucked into her pants, adjusted her belt, and took a deep breath.

Letting it out slowly, she turned the light switch off and then stepped out of the bedroom to head down the hallway, up the staircase, and greet her in-laws, excited to see more familiar faces from her family, from the people she had grown to love as if they were her own parents, and to allow the comfort of their unconditional love to envelop her once more.

* * *

Alex lifted her glass of Riesling as she sat at the kitchen table with her parents, the kids busily drawing as they chatted, and Olivia got ready to go out to _Southampton Social Club_ —a fine seafood restaurant—for dinner.

Olivia entered from the hallway and the blonde watched as Cathy Cabot looked up when she walked into the room. The elder Cabot's sympathetic eyes immediately began tearing and she stood, set her own wine glass down, and moved toward her.

Alex could see her wife's emotions, as well, could see the love Olivia felt at the welcome, and she watched as the brunette and her mother-in-law slowly embraced.

"Oh, Olivia…" Cathy soothed, rubbing her back slowly, "…you have been on my mind so much, dear…so much…" she said softly, rocking her slightly.

Alex watched Olivia's face wrinkle then, her lower lip trembling.

"Thank you, Cathy. That means a lot," she whispered.

They pulled away and Cathy placed her hands underneath the brunette's elbows and cupped them gently.

"I know you're doing better, and you're not OK yet, but…" she smiled and looked at Alex briefly before returning her gaze back to Olivia, "…from speaking with our daughter, I know you're getting there. It's just going to take time." Cathy cocked her head to the side.

"It will, Cathy. But…I'm so…" Olivia swallowed then, willing the lump away, "…so, _so_ happy to be back with Alex, with the kids, with you…" Olivia looked at Bill who had slowly stood and approached, "…and I know this is exactly what I need right now." Olivia tried a smile.

Bill Cabot held his arms out and Olivia moved into him, as well, and they hugged.

"Anything you ever need, you just ask, Olivia. OK?" Mr. Cabot claimed.

Olivia nodded against his shoulder. "I will, Bill. Thank you…"

"We're glad to have you back…" he smiled.

Olivia pulled away and the kids all abandoned their crayons and paper and ran into Olivia's upper thighs and waist, holding on and ramming their faces into her belly and hips.

Olivia nodded then, touching all of her children that were pressed against her in some way—hair, faces, cheeks—and then she looked back up, teary-eyed. "I'm glad to be back." She tried a meek smile, lips trembling before that full-blown Benson smile was spread across her face.

And Alex couldn't help but join in on the happiness.

* * *

Olivia took in a deep breath as she lay that evening in bed. The moonlight lighting up the space of their bedroom, the ocean waves just barely heard through the closed windows and doors and above the working air conditioner.

Olivia opened her eyes, her light fingertips resting just on her upper chest in her black camisole, the sheet draped over her waist and lower half. It was an unusually sticky and hot evening and the cool air being emitted felt amazing as they began to drift off to sleep.

The sound of sliding then and Olivia felt her wife's hand touch her elbow. Olivia smiled and then took the blonde's hand, bringing it to her mouth and kissing before resting it in between her breasts and then rolling over to face her wife, hand still pressed to her.

Alex was on her back, but she was facing her and, even in the dimness of the room, Olivia could make out those amazingly classic features—cute, perky nose, full lips, strong jaw line, long, swan-like neck.

"We didn't get a chance to talk, Liv. It was dinner, making sure the kids were eating, back to the house, bath, teeth, story time, bed…how are you…with all this?" Alex questioned.

Olivia angled her face downward and kissed Alex's hand again before looking back at her. "This has been the best thing for me, Alex. Really and truly. Coming here. A few days alone to think. Having that time to realize how much I need and miss you and the kids…it's all been so good."

Alex nodded. "I know my mother can be a little…overbearing, at times…" Alex smiled, "…but she's done a good job giving you space. Don't you think? She didn't ask any probing questions…"

Olivia shook her head and then moved slightly closer to the blonde. "She didn't…she and your father were great…just like you, Al…" Olivia said softly.

"Olivia…you're my wife, my love, my everything…"

Olivia felt her eyes begin to tear again.

Alex continued, "…I am willing to do anything, whatever it takes, to help you through this. Even if you had needed a month, six months, a year…it would be the most difficult thing I would ever have to do, being away from you, but I would do it, Liv. Because I love you more than anything. Anything, Babe…"

Olivia swallowed and nodded and then slowly slid closer and placed her temple on the blonde's shoulder and closed her eyes, wrapping her arm around her. The blonde returned the hold and they stay like that, both enjoying the closeness, the love, the support.

"And I love you more than anything, too, Al. Always…" she claimed softly.

A warm kiss was felt against her forehead then and Olivia smiled, feeling her body drift, and float, and begin to enter the first stages of sleep, her contented mood and calming presence allowing her to do this without exception.

* * *

Monday Morning

 _Seventeen Days Post Return_

Olivia had been divulging bits and pieces of her experience in her sessions with Dr. Lindstrom, but still hadn't given him the full range of what happened. Only snippets of the physical abuse, the mental torment, and the fact that she was not, in fact, raped.

He had given her some mental exercises to work on, some things to do when she had flashbacks, and had questioned why she didn't want to take the medications that he had prescribed.

Olivia only smiled and said, "Doctor….my family is my medicine…my wife, my three incredible children. I don't want chemicals running through my body and disconnecting me just to help me calm down. My anxiety is lowered when I see their faces or am just in their presence. My wife is especially good at it. And the kids have a way of hugging me and kissing me that makes me forget."

"And what about when you go back to work?" he had asked earlier that day at their appointment.

Olivia had narrowed her eyes and nodded, looking at her hands in her lap and beginning to turn her wedding and engagement rings soothingly. "When I go back to work I'll be back doing what I love, helping women, abuse victims, children, and that will be another form of therapy for me. Knowing I'm making a difference always seems to put me at ease and helps me know that what I do for a living is making a change in some people." She looked up from her hands and smiled. "You know?"

Dr. Lindstrom had only smiled. "I do know, Olivia. I know exactly what you mean."

Now it was evening time and, as she stirred the puttanesca sauce in the pan, having picked the kids up from school and after homework, the three were now on the sofa, casual clothing on, all cuddled together, watching _Yu-gi-oh_ until dinner was ready and Alex came home.

It felt like old times. When she had been off for a month in the beginning of their new-found relationship, after she had punched Mr. Mc Adams in the face at the hospital. Olivia had, back then, turned into a full-blown housewife and she had enjoyed every minute of it.

Now that they had children, there was a lot more to do—a lot more laundry, more cooking, more tending to little humans—and the brunette cherished and relished in these little daily and nightly tasks.

The sound of the garage door then and the rumble as the larger one was being lowered.

"Mommy!" the kids squealed and then left the comfort of the sofa and ran to her.

"Hi, guys!" she beamed, trying to move as they embraced her hips and she struggled to remove her lap top bag, purse, and attaché and place them on a stool at the island. "How are my babies?" She leaned down and kissed them all, hugging them tightly before standing erect.

The kids then returned to what they had been doing.

Alex turned to her then and smiled folding her arms and moving towards her at the stove. "Hey, there."

"Hey, there, Al. How was your day?"

Alex lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "My day was great, my gorgeous wife. How was yours? How was therapy?"

Olivia nodded, moving to grab the wooden spoon resting on the side of the pot and beginning to stir. "It was really good. A little difficult, at times, but good."

"I'm glad," Alex offered before moving closer and leaning her face into the brunette's neck. She pressed a quick, gentle kiss there and then pulled away. "I'm gonna go change…"

"Dinner will be ready in ten, Babe…"

They locked eyes with each other and smiled, that sexual tension between them gradually building and building once more with each passing day.

"I'll be down, Liv…" Alex husked before turning and heading down the gray-hued wooden hallway.

* * *

"H-huh…s-stop…h-help…no…no, _please_ …" Then whimpering and a small gasp. "Why?" Olivia's voice was small, tiny, her eyes closed, but her hands were fisted tightly at her sides, her body stiff as she lay on her back, brow furrowed, her chin lifted to the ceiling. "Please…" she whined, "…please don't…"

Alex swallowed and moved to sit up, her bent knees to her side. She placed a gentle hand on the brunette's forearm. "Liv?" she said softly.

Another gasp from her wife, the brunette's head moving left and right oh-so-subtly, her teeth gritted.

"Liv, Baby. It's Alex…"

One more gasp and then Olivia's eyes popped open and she turned her head quickly, focusing into the present in only a split second. "Al?"

"It's me, Babe. You're home. You're safe. I'm here."

Olivia sat up then and moved closer to her, pulling her into a hug. The two held each other and Alex could feel her body tremble slightly, a small amount of dampness against her.

Alex let her fingertips slowly begin a soothing motion—up and down, up and down—along the ribbed fabric of her white tank top, and then pressed her mouth to the spot just below her ear, placing a tender offering there.

"It always seems like the night after your therapy session this happens…" Alex continued stroking her back.

"I think you're right, Al. I think it brings up all those feelings, those fears, all back to the surface…"

Alex nodded against her shoulder.

They held each other for a few moments, both just enjoying the closeness, the warmth, the comfort.

Then Olivia finally spoke. "Thank you, Alex…"

Alex furrowed her brow. "For what, Babe?"

"Everything…" Olivia whispered, her voice depleted.

Alex smiled and took in a deep breath and closed her eyes again. "Like I said, Liv…anything for you. You are my love, my life, my everything…and that will never change…" she placed another kiss, this time on the brunette's left ear lobe, "…OK?"

Olivia only nodded against her, pulling her closer, holding her tighter.

And Alex knew how very strong her wife was.

She had already endured so much, yet had overcome so much.

There would still be work left to do, moments of discomfort, but the blonde knew that with the love they had, the life they had built together, and the support of all involved, her wife would gradually move through and past this, and they could continue the bliss that existed before all of this had occurred.

Alex smiled and thought of one of her favorite poems by JM Storm, knowing how much her wife loved it when she recited poetry.

"We look at each other and we smile, that smile, like a secret we share. We both know we've found, what the whole world is searching for."

She felt Olivia whimper slightly against her before she whispered, "I love you, Al."

"Shhhh..." she kissed her temple once more, "...and I love you, Liv...eternally..."

And Alex felt it in her heart and her soul.

Her wife would be OK.

* * *

 **A/N (1): As we know, Olivia returned to work less than two weeks later (according to the show). So, I wanted to show that she has progressed. It will take time and she is not near 100% OK, but she has what she needs. Please let me hear from you about this last and final chapter.**

* * *

 **A/N (2): This was the last "William Lewis" chapter. Thank you to those of you who constantly reviewed, who followed and favorited, and communicated with me through not only this little section, but the entire** _ **Love Won't Leave**_ **saga.**

 **As I have always said from the beginning, all I've ever wanted was to share my writing, my imagination, and communicate with others who just want a little bit of that, as well.**

 **I'm forever grateful for this experience.**

 **If you read this, and any other LWL sections, in the future, I would still love to hear from you. :) I'll be here...**

 **Very sincerely,**

 **Patricia**


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